Predator's Serenity
by dantesdarkqueen
Summary: Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Even if they are not particularly dangerous. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.
1. Predator's Serenity

**Summary: **Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

**Disclaimer: **In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

**Queen's Quornor: **Strange things come from my boredom. I have three DA2 stories that need to be written and posted, including this one, and I need to finish "Chant of Blood" and complete the next chapter of "Behind Closed Doors." Way too much on my plate, on the writing front alone...

Family 

Someone was watching him.

Fenris felt the eyes upon him, the calculating scrutiny of silent appraisal. The forest around him gave no clue as to the nature of this watcher, merely continued its transition from day to evening. He paused in the tiny clearing between two sprawling oaks, cocking his head, trying to ascertain the direction of the threat. He thought of his sword, left at home as he had not thought it needed for a hunt, and cursed himself for not bringing it along. The lyrium beneath his skin began to glow with an eldritch luminscence as a gentle breeze played over him.

The azure fires dimmed and a little smile teased at his lips. His shadow was upwind, and it was a familiar scent indeed.

Hefting the trio of rabbits he had snared, Fenris began walking again with a careless shrug. This was not a dangerous trap.

There was a soft rustling in the bushes ahead.

The elf bit back his smile as he passed the swaying foilage.

With an exhilarated shout, a small body launched itself from the bushes and locked its skinny limbs around his back and waist, clinging tightly. Fenris staggered with the impact, then dropped his catch and reached back until his hands closed on the little arms. Before his ambusher could react, he swung her high above his head so her legs pointed straight at the sky before bringing her down for a sudden embrace. She shrieked in surprise and delight, craning her head to meet his eyes.

"I got you, Father! Didn't I?"

"It seems that _I _got _you_," he replied, mirroring her wide grin. "Did you come alone, or is your sister with you?"

"Leda's at home with Mother. Malcolm's fussy." She twisted in his arms, uncaring that her scarlet ponytail tickled his nose into a frenzied twitch. "Did I scare you?"

"No, Rai'eena. I heard you." Fenris let his daughter down and bent to retrieve the rabbits. "You hid yourself well this time, but you did not keep still. That is what gave you away."

The little girl put her hands on her hips and glared at him, her crimson brows furled in a scowl. "Then why'd you let me pounce?"

"Only through failure will you learn success." He reached out to ruffle her bright hair, and she playfully batted his hand away. Rai'eena fell into step with him as he resumed the trek back to their home, his pace deliberately slow so the young girl could keep up with his long strides. "Have you been practicing your swordplay?"

"All morning. Mother took Bushbane away, though."

Bushbane. Her name for the wooden sword he had carved for her and Leda's birthday. Both of the twins had received a carved blade, but Rai'eena was the only one who had shown any interest in following their father's path. Leda's sword had yet to see use beyond propping up the corner of their room. "Why did she take your sword away?"

Rai'eena hopped over a fallen tree limb, not looking at her father. "I sort of...hit Leda with it?" She gave him a sheepish smile.

Fenris' mouth thinned. "Why did you do that?"

She kicked at a bunch of leaves. "Didn't want to spar with me. Leda's been trying to make sparkles for Mother."

The elf sighed. His crimson-topped daughter was a warrior in the making, and it was obvious that she had inherited his talent with the blade. Leda was the exact opposite. The white-haired girl cared little for swordplay, and Phaedra had long suspected that the elder twin was a mage, but Fenris had fervently hoped such was not the case. He loved his apostate wife and young family more than anything else in the world, but the idea that one of his beloved children might possess magic was a terrifying prospect. He had protected his daughters since Phaedra told him she was pregnant again. How was he to protect them from demons and spirits? The thought that he might lose Leda to a demon haunted him, and his wife could only soothe his fears so much.

Then there was the question of baby Malcolm, the newest addition to the family. Which path would he walk, if either? He was far too young to display any preferences or talents. If their son was a mage, Fenris' sleep would know no peace.

"So we're having rabbit stew for dinner tonight?" Rai'eena asked, her voice high with eagerness. The twins loved rabbit, although they couldn't watch their father clean and prepare the creatures. Leda in particular loved animals; she had a pet fox she was raising, a kit she had found in an abandoned den. Rai'eena fostered a stubborn hope for a mabari pup.

"If your mother feels like cooking stew, then yes." He stepped lightly over the little stream the family used for fresh water, and Rai'eena hopped across the rocks. "Otherwise, we will roast them."

The house came into view as they rounded a stand of ancient oaks, and Fenris felt his steps quicken. Phaedra was one of the most powerful mages in Thedas, and more than capable of looking after herself and the children. But he could not help his worries whenever he left them. After finally creating future and a family, he would not allow anything to take them away from him. They were all the most cherished things in his life.

He could see Phaedra through the window of their kitchen. She was seated with her back to him. Smiling, he handed the rabbits to his daughter.

"Take these behind the house, and watch them while I get my knives. Don't let any wolves steal them, understand?" He peered into her dark green eyes, exact copies of his own, to make sure she absorbed the serious nature of this task.

She nodded slowly, a determined expression taking hold of her face. "Yes, Father. I won't let any wolf-thieves steal our dinner."

"Good girl." He watched her run behind the house, the rabbits bumping against her back, then went to the front door and made his way to the kitchen.

His wife was sitting in a chair with her back cushioned by a pillow, her eyes closed. Malcolm lay in the sling she had made to hold him, and her shirt was undone. The tiny infant made contented sighs and the occasional grunt as he suckled at her breast.

Fenris leaned against the doorjamb, basking in the serenity of domestic bliss. Phaedra looked exhausted, there were shadows beneath her eyes and her colorless hair lay limp and bedraggled in its tie. Between the difficult pregnancy and Malcolm's delivery, which had almost taken both mother and child to the Maker's side, and the sleepless nights with their colicky son, she was operating on very little energy. In spite of this, Fenris still saw her as the beautiful woman he had fallen in love with all those years ago. She could never be anything less to him, particularly since she had given him his future.

Careful not to make a sound, he picked his way across the kitchen until he stood before her. Malcolm continued his meal, unbothered by the prescence of his father. Phaedra did not appear to be awake. Smiling, Fenris bent down to gently brush his lips against hers.

"Let me guess. Three rabbits and a daughter?"

His lips parted in a true grin. "You were listening," he murmured as her bright green eyes slid open.

"I've always had sharp hearing."

"I thought you were asleep."

"Merely resting my eyes." She smiled and her gave her a deeper kiss in response. After a heated moment he drew back to gaze into her eyes, warmed by the happiness he saw mirrored in them.

"I am led to believe that this has been a trying day for you." He combed his fingers softly through her hair and cradled her cheek. She leaned her head into his palm, her smile tender.

"I had to use magic to soothe his stomach. Malcolm needs more than those herbal treatments I've been trying." She led his gaze down to their son, and Fenris carefully traced the back of his fingers across the snowy hair that capped the tiny head. Only one of their children had inherited a hair color other than white, and Malcolm's eyes were almost fully green, having shed the pale blue they had borne upon his birth. "As you can see, he is much happier than before."

"I suppose his comfort is worth a spell." He leaned down to press his lips to the baby's hair. "I hated knowing that I could do nothing to ease his pain. It is good that he can now eat without worry."

He felt his wife's touch on his hand and lifted his head to meet her smile. "I'm glad you approve. Now, don't you have some dead animals to clean?"

A small laugh escaped him and he stood up. "It would be too much to ask, for Rai'eena to be patient. I'd better get back there before she comes looking for me."

"At least Leda is calm. She's as good a child as I could have hoped." Phaedra carefully worked her index finger between her breast and Malcolm's mouth, breaking the suction and separating the two. Fenris watched with a pleasant warmth in his chest as she lifted their son to her shoulder and began to pat his back. Malcolm obliged by surrendering a quiet belch.

Phaedra noticed her husband's serene interest. "Do you want to hold him? I'll get your knives for you."

The elf held out his hands, and she passed their son to him. He lifted him so the baby lay along his chest with his little head resting on his shoulder, and closed his eyes, enjoying the tiny puffs of warm air against his neck. Malcolm yawned and snugged deeper in his father's arms.

"And you used to be so scared of holding them," Phaedra teased. She slowly stood, reaching high to stretch her back.

"I have found that I enjoy the warmth of a child on my shoulder. The fact that they are mine helps me past the fear of hurting them." He nuzzled his cheek against the downy head.

His wife's smile faltered. She turned away, heading for the shelf that held his butcher knives, but his sharp eyes noticed her abrupt change of mood. Inwardly he cringed, realizing too late how she might interpret his words. The cost of their youngest's safe arrival had been very, very steep as well as irreversable.

Fenris walked to her side, Malcolm secure against his shoulder. "You shouldn't feel any guilt, or shame. It was not your fault."

She drew in a shuddering breath and reached for the rolled cloth of his cleaning kit. "I know, but it's hard to accept it. I've always wanted a large family, with lots of children. When you and the Dalish built this house, I wanted to fill it with as many babies as I could, because we both wanted them so much." Her head bowed, hiding her face behind stray wisps of white hair. "But now..."

"Three children make a fine family." He laid one hand on her shoulder. She reached up and gripped his fingers. "We have a pair of beautiful twin girls and a handsome, healthy son. That is more than many people have."

"You don't care taht I'm incapable of more?" she asked, her voice barely higher than a whisper.

Fenris squeezed her fingers as he considered his reply. Malcolm's birth had been a hazardous affair; he had been breech, and earlier than anticipated. The difficulty of the birth, combined with the malady which had ailed Phaedra thoughout the pregnancy, had almost ended both their lives. Thanks to the wandering healer Aneirin, mother and babe had survived, though not without great personal cost. Fenris' heart tightened when he remembered his wife's helpless tears, the black despair that had consumned her thoughts, when she was told that she could no longer conceive. He had spent many nights holding her while she grieved for the children they would never have.

"What I wanted was to remain at your side, come what may. That has not changed." Still holding Malcolm, he turned his wife and pressed her against him, laying his cheek atop her hair. She clutched him tightly in response. "A larger family would have been nice, but perhaps it was better to stop at three. I hardly remember anything of my own family, just pieces of memories. I'm not certain I could deal with more than a few children, at least not until the older ones are grown. But my wish has not been altered. I am not leaving you, regardless of how many children we have."  
>Phaedra sniffled. "I'm supposed to be stronger than this, you know. You have a habit of making me cry."<p>

"Not always out of sorrow, I hope."

She shook her head. "Sometimes it's out of joy. Plus I'm tired and my emotions are running amok, so it's little wonder I'm crying." She held him a moment longer, then released him and plucked Malcolm off his shoulder. "Go on. Rai'eena is not likely to wait much longer."

"I honestly believe that girl takes after your brother more than either of us." He reached for the fabric roll, careful of the knives poking from the far end. "If she ever leaves and come home with a mabari tattoo..."

Phaedra laughed. "She has more sense than that. Rai'eena would never put a tattoo on any location that could mimic a barking motion."

Her husband masked his own laugh with a cough. If any of their children - as it seemed now, anyway - were to get a tattoo, the feisty red-headed daughter was the most likely candidate. She already had a habit of stealing her mother's kohl; what was to stop her from getting inked when she was older?

"Speaking of Rai'eena..." Phaedra pointed out the window, and Fenris followed her gesture. A vehement curse escaped him as he saw the girl running across the grass after a skinny, mangy escuse for a wolf. The wolf had one of the rabbits in its mouth and their daughter was chasing it down with a long stick.

"Next time, _I'll _guard my catch and _she _can get my knives!"


	2. Second Chances

**Summary: **Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

**Disclaimer: **In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

**Queen's Quornor: **As you can probably tell, this is going to jump all over the timeline post-DA2. I used to wonder how Hawke might have told Fenris that she was pregnant if such a thing came to pass, and with Phaedra having miscarried their first child there's a very large wrinkle thrown into the mix here. But here's how I think it might have happened, after she discovered that she was once again carrying.

Second Chances

Phaedra stared out the window, her eyes resting upon the rolling hills painted in the indigo palette of twilight. She leaned against the stained and sanded timbers that held the glass, one arm bent and clamped upon its straightened partner. To the casual observer she appeared to be examining the scenery with unusually pensive eyes. But in actuality her thoughts were turned inward, mulling over a quandery.

For every great tragedy in her life, it seemed the Maker have her something wonderful in repayment. The loss of Lothering and her sister had ended in nine of the most wonderful, emotional, and turbulent years of her life. Her broken heart had been mended by an unexpected pregnancy, and the loss of that same child had eventually resulted in her reconcilliation with Fenris. The destruction of her life in Kirkwall had been soothed by her marriage to the man she loved aboard Isabela's new ship.

As well as another pregnancy.

She thought of the new life - _lives _- nestled beneath her heart, just below the scar that marked her first child's demise. She had sensed their prescence herself this time, being far more attuned to her body that she had been three years ago. As a spirit healer she was aware of everything that went on within her flesh, and she had been startled awake last night when she had felt the newly-conceived babes implant themselves within her womb. Fenris had awoken with her, but she had been too shocked to inform him of this momentuous change in their lives. She had allowed him to lull her back to sleep, and by the time she had opened her eyes to the morning sun he had gone to town with Varric and Donnic. Aveline had remained at the inn with her, plagued by morning sickness, and Anders had stayed to ease the other woman's misery. Carver had settled himself in the common room, keeping a careful watch for anybody who might try to disturb them.

Phaedra was terrified and elated by the news. On the one hand, this was not her first time carrying. The miscarriage had virtually shattered her for three years, especially combined with her certainty that Fenris no longer cared for her as more than a friend. The discovery that her worries were groundless had helped her heal at long last, but now the old pain was back, and mingled freely with fear. There were no qunari about, she knew that, yet she could not shake the irrational anxiety that a horned behemoth was going to pop up and impale her, piercing her in the exact spot marked by her largest scar. If not the Arishok, then raiders or bandits. If not highwaymen, then templars. Templars were her greatest nightmare; given what had happened in Kirkwall, she was one of the two most coveted captures on the Order's Wanted list. If she was caught, what would stop a knight from slamming his mailed fist against her womb, ridding Thedas of a potential mage or two? The idea made her shiver, and she wrapped her arms around herself to fend off the chill.

Even if violence did not befall their children, there was a litany of ways for her to miscarry again. She could fall off a horse, catch a sickness, trip down a staircase, catch Fenris' falling greatsword with her stomach. Her womb could prove inhospitable, or something about the children might be incompatible with continued existence. It was really up to the Maker's whims whether she carried these babies to term or not.

How was she to tell Fenris?

She rested her head against the window frame, a quiet sigh whistling past her lips to lightly fog the glass. It wasn't that he would be upset by, or disgusted with, the news. He would probably be overjoyed, in his quiet way. The timing was just bad, as it had been the first time. Then, he had withdrawn from her out of fear and confusion less than a month beforehand. Now, they were on the run with the entire Chantry howling for their blood. They had no home to call their own, and no real means to support a family beyond what sovreigns they carried. They were all too recognizable for mercenary work, unless Fenris agreed to help mages. He may have married and mated her, a lifelong apostate, but that did not mean his opinion of her kind had changed. She was the only mage he trusted, and it was doubtful he would ever accept another.

Unless one of their babies, if not both of them, had magic.

Phaedra pushed the thought away. She would worry about that if it ever came to pass. For the moment, her major sources of concern were keeping her babies alive, and providing for them.

One thing was certain. She did not want to raise her children as she and her siblings had been. They deserved a stable home in which to learn and grow, especially in their formulative years. Spending most of her childhood on the road had been a mixed blessing, and while she loved traveling and getting into all sort of adventures, it was not the kind of activities she considered suitable for children. She had hated passing through all those villages as a young girl, knowing that they would not be staying, that all the happy kids she played with would be going to cheerful, warm homes while she had to sleep in a cold wooden wagon. Her parents had their reasons - extremely good reasons! - for living on the road, but she did not want that childhood for her babies. There had to be a safe place for her and Fenris to go, somewhere for them to settle and raise their family without fear of templars, where she could trade her title of Champion for "Mommy."

The apostate let a rueful smile crease her lips. All she had ever really wanted was a husband and children, and the freedom to live peacefully with them in a comfortable home near friends she loved. She should have known her heart's desire would come with a twist.

Phaedra caught the scent of sweat and cool, fresh spices mingled with weapon oil, and her smile deepened. A moment later arms slid around her waist, drawing her back against a warm, muscular, and decidedly lanky body. She relaxed and covered his hands with her own as soft lips pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head.

"That took longer than I expected," she murmured.

"We were gathering intelligence as well as buying supplies." The rich depths of his voice vibrated along her back, making her melt even closer against him. "It seems we have even more trouble than we originally thought."

Phaedra sighed. Somehow, she was not surprised. "How much worse?"

"We're not certain. Varric is checking for more information, but this is a potential catastrophe."

"Fenris, speak plainly. What's going on?" she asked, turning in his arms to search his jade eyes.

Her husband wore a slightly deeper scowl than usual, his dark brows knitted in a furl. Even in his anger his lips just begged for a kiss, she thought, working to surpress her smile. "Do you remember that prince-turned-priest in Kirkwall? The one who hired us to avenge his family?"

Phaedra thought for a moment, then slowly nodded. She had not had many dealings with the royal brother after her return from the Deep Roads, although they had exchanged greetings whenever their paths crossed at the Chantry. "His name was Sebastian, wasn't it?"

"Yes, and currently he's the Prince of Starkhaven. The only survivor of the Kirkwall Chantry."

She noted the dark cast to his eyes, and something inside her knew the tidings were worse than he was letting on. "Drop the other boot. I already know I'm not going to like this."

Fenris let out a snort. "That might be an inadequate expression for how you're about to feel." She continued to look at him, lifting one brow in silent prompt, and the elf tightened his grip on her waist a bit, a nervous tic he had developed these past weeks. "He's become a fanatic since Anders pulled his little stunt. He left the city to retake his throne, and has raised an army to avenge Elthina. Apparently he has vowed to raze Kirkwall to the ground if it means capturing both Anders and the Champion. I doubt he will be satisfied with merely throwing you both in a Circle somewhere."

Phaedra bit her lip. She knew why Anders, her best friend and spiritual brother, had done what he did. She had forgiven him as soon as the shock wore off and Meredith advanced on him with blade drawn. But her forgiveness meant little in the face of world-wide outrage. Even Varric was still trying to accept his actions, and what he'd set in motion. Fenris pointedly ignored him now, out of respect for his wife's close relationship with him and, Phaedra suspected, because Anders had been her support when she was first pregnant and Fenris was emotionally distant, and he had saved her life when she miscarried. Her husband no longer hated Anders, because he was the reason she was still alive, but nothing would ever convince him to try and get to know the other man, much less foster a friendship with him.

"Does this prince know where we are?" she asked quietly.

"Varric will know for certain, but I believe this particular opponent is as unaware of our movements as any other." Fenris embraced her hard, then released her and crossed the room to their little bed, seating himself on the edge while he tugged at the buckles that secured his gauntlets. "Regardless, I would feel more comfortable if we put more distance between us and the Free Marches. You are too famous here, Phaedra, and far too recognizable."

That was true. Her parents had never been able to tell her where her moonlight pale hair had come from, but her father once said her eyes, the bright green of new weeds, were those of his own mother. In addition to her physical features, Phaedra had a light brown tattoo of seven hawk feathers winding down her left arm in a loose, elegant coil. She had gone to sleep with Fenris after their reconcilliation, and the markings had appeared by the time they awoke. It turned out that the tattoo was Feynriel's doing, and it had been a complete accident. The Dreamer had sent a letter to the Hawke estate and, in a very nervous and embarrassed manner, explained that he had dreamed of Phaedra one night, and painted the artwork in an effort to make her look even more fey that she already did. He had not meant to leave the markings, but he had been jerked from his sleep before he could erase them and had been unable to find her in the Fade the following night. Fenris had been suspicious of the tattoo for a week or so, until Phaedra assured him it was nothing more than a design beneath her skin. It was lovely, but also unique. One more way for their pursuers to find her.

"We're both too obvious, love," she murmured. "We need a place to hide where they can't easily find us."

"Orlais is out of the question," Fenris grated. "They have too many faithful eyes, and Varric has heard that the Divine has increased the templar presence within the Circle. Apostates are hunted ruthlessly now, and if they are Harrowed escapees they are killed on sight."

"Probably the safest country in all of Thedas would be Tevinter, but it's not an option. That is one viper's nest where I refuse to venture." From the corner of her eye, Phaedra saw her husband relax. "It would be safe for me, but I'm not going anywhere without you. Besides," she added with a little smile, "it's hardly a suitable environment for our family."

"I agree. We don't want Carver or Varric in that country, and Anders has enough problems. He would not remain in control if that spirit saw the magisters' evil." Dropping his gauntlets and pauldrons to the floor, Fenris flopped back upon the straw tick and closed his eyes, one arm flung across them. Phaedra pursed her lips, a little crestfallen that he had missed her hint.

Leaving the window, the apostate went to her husband and joined him on the bed, pressing against his side and resting her hand over his heart. Funny how such an intelligent man could be so dense at times. "How about Ferelden? I traveled all over the country when I was a child, and King Alistair and Queen Tamera are sympathetic to mages. They've sheltered apostates and runaways before. They would do the same for us."

"Do not forget that you are possibly the most politically dangerous person in the world now. They might be sympathetic, but their sentiment isn't shared by all of their subjects, and the Divine might declare an Exalted March on Ferelden if too many notable apostates are suspected of hiding there." His arm curled around her, and his free hand covered hers. "If we go there, it would be prudent to remain hidden rather than announce ourselves in Denerim."

"A city isn't what I had in mind. I think a village would be best for children, or a little house somewhere."

"I'd prefer a house with few people nearby," he replied.

Phaedra fought the urge to stare at him. Was he being dense, or deliberately obtuse? "Are you getting what I'm trying to tell you?"

He regarded her with a quizzical expression. "You want to live away from people, don't you? Reclaim yourself as a person, and not Kirkwall's Champion?"

"That's only part of it." Evidently he would need a more concrete hint. She rolled onto her back and carried their twined hands from his heart to the sleek expanse of skin between her hips. Pressing his fingers gently, she gazed at him with a soft, mysterious smile.

He looked at her, then their hands. A confused frown pulled at the corners of his mouth for a minute, then vanished in lieu of utter shock. "Phaedra, are you trying to tell me... Are you...?"

"With twins," she whispered.

Those beautiful eyes were huge upon her, filled with joy and...apprehension? No, it was fear. Raw fear. "Are you certain?" he rasped. "How long have you known?"

"It happened last night, when I woke up and you held me." She sat up, letting his hand fall away. A part of her had suspected he might react this way. "Fenris, are you afraid for us? Me and the babies?"

Her husband rolled onto his side, away from her, curling himself loosely. She regarded his armored back with sympathetic eyes. He still carried the vestiges of inferiority and self-loathing instilled by a lifetime of slavery and the barest scraps of his memories as Leto. Her love had done much to heal the wounds, but some scars remained. He wanted a family to love and protect, and he was terrified of actually getting one. "I feel unworthy, Phaedra. I almost killed my sister, the only family I had left, and I don't have any idea how to be a father. What sort would I be? I'm a - "

"You're a good man, and a protector," she interrupted. "You built yourself up from absolutely nothing, fought for your freedom when so many in your place would have given in and accepted the shackles." She lay behind him and fit her body to his contours, sliding her hand up his arm until it rested atop the hard curve of his shoulder. He shook lightly as her lips grazed the base of his neck, atop the lyrium tree beneath his flesh. "You have such strength, love. You don't let many people in, but you care so deeply about those you do. You do everything in your power to protect your loved ones. That's all a father really is: a man who protects and cares for his children. You are going to be a wonderful father, and what you don't know we'll figure out together."

"Aren't you frightened?" he questioned, his voice low. "After what happened with our first child, I can't... I don't..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, shuddering with the intensity of his worry. "What if it happens again? I almost lost you then. If you die because I got you with child again, I couldn't live with myself."

So that was it. The miscarriage and its emotional aftermath, her closest brush with death, still haunted him just as it had her. But Phaedra had finally moved beyond that loss once her had reassured her of his love. Fenris, it seemed, had yet to forgive himself for unwittingly setting the event in motion.

"You didn't do anything wrong, my love. If I had been thinking, I would have cast a contraceptive dweomer upon myself after we finished. It was nobody's fault that I conceived that night, only the Maker's whim. As for what happened, that was the fault of circumstance. The Arishok wasn't aiming for our child; he had no idea I was pregnant." She sighed and closed her eyes, breathing of his scent deeply. Fenris was no longer trembling, but he remained tense against her. "That's what hurt me the most. There was no way to avoid that duel, not without risking innocent bystanders and the people I love. Regardless of what I did or said, the odds of my ever holding that child in my arms were very small."

"I keep wondering what our baby would have been like," he confessed. "Was it a boy or a girl? Did it have human features, or elven? Would it have been a strong, compassionate leader like you - "

"Or a sensitive, passionate, deep fighter such as yourself?" she smoothly finished. That note was back in his voice, the note which accompanied a strike against himself. "I used to torment myself with thoughts like that, after I recovered. But Fenris, we have another chance. We have created two new babies, and this time we'll be more careful so it doesn't happen again. I'm an even stronger healer than I was three years ago, so I can prevent another miscarriage, if necessary. This time, we're going to meet our children. We will have a family to replace the ones we have lost. I'm carrying our future, not my doom."

Fenris was silent for a long while, and Phaedra lay quiet against his back, wishing he could free himself from the demons of the past. If she, who still carried the marks of her despair upon her arms, could move beyond that dark night when she had lost their child, why could he not?

Because that was just the way he is, she thought sadly. They were alike in that they blamed themselves when things went wrong, even if they knew it was not their fault. Fenris berated himself for Orana's father's death, just as Phaedra laid her mother's death at her own feet. Her husband would think of every way to try and avoid another miscarriage because he did not want to see himself as responsible if the unthinkable happened again. It would continue long after the birth, even after their children learned to protect themselves and left their home.

He was going to be the most protective father in the world, once he accepted that he could do this.

"Have you told anybody else yet?" His voice came in a soft murmur.

"I felt you should know first, since I no longer require a middleman."

She drew back as he slowly shifted to face her, his jade eyes so vulnerable. "Do you still want me by your side? It might be safer for you if we separated. I could lead the pursuit far away, where they will never find you."

Phaedra stared at him, aghast. "How could you even think such a thing? I nearly lost you once, I'm not losing you again!" She bit her lip, meeting his gaze. "I can't stand the thought of living without you, even if it was for my safety. These babies deserve to know their father and I'm not letting my husband leave me behind. Don't you remember our vows?"

"'To walk beside you beneath the forest and the open sky, beyond the Veil as in life, in happiness and sorrow, in hardship as in prosperity'." He shuddered and reached for her, crushing their bodies close. "I meant every word when I spoke them, and I mean them now. It's just that I'm worried about what this means. I had anticipated traveling all over Thedas, as I eluded Danarius before I met you. Remaining in one place when so many hunters are on your trail seems foolish. However," he amended into her hair, " it does have its strategic advantages."

Phaedra waited patiently, already aware of what he would say. Fenris had his moments of spontaneity, but he was a somewhat predictable man once one knew what to expect. Over the years, she had come to know him better than any of her friends, on more than one level.

"You once told me it was a miracle that your father kept your family safe and secret from the templars all your life, especially after you settled in Lothering. But perhaps it was more than luck. You were all hiding in plain sight, not drawing attention to yourselves. Perhaps that could work for us, as well?" he asked, trailing his fingers along her spine in a slow circuit. One of his legs tangled with hers, but the laziness of the action meant he was only looking for physical contact, not intimacy. The aversion to touch had been totally abolished for her; Fenris used her as a security blanket in private, where he knew nobody else could witness his vulnerable side.

"I don't want to risk it. Things are different now, and the templars are going to kill or Tranquil any mage they uncover." She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his, taking solace in the contact. "I don't want to have our children, build a good life with you, only to lose it all when a mage-hunter realizes who I am."

"So we are to live in solitude. A good plan, but not the safest one. I'd rather we chose a location somewhat close to other people, just in case we need help," he told her, his breath hot against her lips.

"I still think Ferelden would be best, since it has less people per square mile than other countries. It's also the most mage-friendly right now because of the role the Circle played in the Battle for Denerim."

"Do you remember any good places to hide?"

Phaedra pondered the matter, arching softly against her husband's long fingers. Nobody could give a back massage like him."There are two areas that might suit our needs. The mountains, or the forest. I remember a couple of settlements around the forest, but for the most part it's just the Dalish clans living beneath the trees. The only issue is that the Veil is thin there, and the forest misleads any trespassers if they venture too far. On the practical side, we would have to depend on the land for our food."

"I know how to hunt." He smiled at her surprised look. "I can't use a bow, but I can get close enough to an animal to kill it. How did you think I fed myself after I fled Danarius?"

"It never occurred to me," she admitted, looking at his nose instead of his eyes.

His soft laughter rolled over her like a firm caress, leaving her flesh tingling in its wake. "I can provide us with fresh meat. You can handle the foraging, and between us we can feed our family."

A good plan, that. Phaedra had studied herbology under her father, and he had made certain she knew which plants were edible and which were to be avoided. She had been responsible for supplementing their friends' meager traveling rations with wild fruits and vegetables for years.

"We'll need a home," she pointed out. "Anders might be able to help me shape some trees into a house, but it will take some time. I am not terribly well-versed in that form of creation magic."

Fenris shook his head vehemently. "That is not an option. This will be our home, and I will build it with my own hands. If I need help, I will ask for it, but I'd rather he not have any part in the construction."

She drew back slightly to look at him. Just when she thought she knew everything there was to know about her husband, he managed to surprise her anew. "You know carpentry?"

"A fair amount. Danarius once ordered me to build a separate wing onto the servant's quarters for a breeding stud he acquired, and I was only allowed one helper. The elf I chose taught me the basics, and I was able to erect a passable dwelling for the stud and the women chosen for him. The rooms stood firm until the stud died of exhaustion, and all the babes he sired with the women had arrived. Once he was dead, Danarius decided it was less than profitable to keep a stable of breeding slaves and burned the building." His jade eyes held some of the old resentment, but Phaedra also detected a gleam of quiet pride therein, of satisfaction with this long-ago accomplishment. "A house is not much different from that wing. I won't let you or our children live in some ramshackle hut."

"I never expected you would. It just surprises me that you have some knowledge of carpentry, considering that you never performed any repairs whatsoever to your manor."

He shrugged and offered his faint smile. "There seemed little point in fixing the mansion when I had no real estimate of how long I would be staying. Additionally, repairs would have roused even more curiosity from my neighbors, and the tax collectors would have been even more aggressive in confirming my prescence."

"By the way, did Isabela ever tell you how she got that first collector to leave you alone? It really is quite an amusing tale," she murmured, lowering her arm so it draped across his waist rather than his ribs.

"The fate of any victim she left alive is something I would rather not entertain." Fenris dragged his finger firmly down her back, working a kink in the muscles. "Living in seclusion, we won't have to worry about such matters as taxes. With luck, nobody will even realize we are there."

"I'd say it's about the time Maker gave us a stroke of good luck. We're certainly due for one." Phaedra nestled against him, tucking her head beneath his chin. "So. Now that we have settled the matter of where we are going to live and how we are going to erect a home, there is another we must discuss. Are we going to tell the others we are expecting yet?"

He buried his nose into her hair and sighed, but she felt the smile curving against her scalp. "Not for a few days. I want to enjoy this a while longer."

"Once again, we are of like mind, my love," she breathed, fancying she felt the joy of their children at knowing their father was with them.


	3. A Child's Aesthetics

**Summary: **Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

**Disclaimer: **In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

**Queen's Quornor: **I'm probably going to come back and re-edit this later. This chapter was inspired by an idea: what would happen the first time one of Fenris' children saw him without a shirt on? Obviously not what he expected, since he hates his markings so much...

A Child's Aesthetics

Butchery was not among his favorite things.

When he took the time to think about it, his aversion to blood-spatter was something of an oddity. As a warrior, it was extremely unusual to emerge from a fight clean. Being splashed in the blood of his enemies did not bother him most of the time, but receiving a fine coating of crimson from dead animals made him itch.

The difference in his reaction, Fenris supposed, must come from the fact that he did not enjoy harming that which did not fight back. Phaedra knew nothing of butchery, or he would let her clean and prepare his catches. That aside, she had little time to help him on most occasions. With a pair of active, intensely curious twin daughters who were just past their second birthday, his wife's days were primarily spent chasing after them.

Still, he could really have used her help today. He had managed to stalk a stag and crush its heart, and cleaning the meat from the carcass had been a tedious, messy ordeal. The elf was certain there was even a fair amount of blood in his hair. It had taken hours to remove every useful cut of flesh and prepare it for their smokehouse, so the deer's blood mingled freely with his sweat. Unable to scent himself, Fenris could only assume that he must smell just _wonderful_.

It was times such as this, he reflected, when he was grateful his wife had used her magic to mold a small dam across the stream near their home. The dam had forced the creek to swell into a pond of sorts, roughly hip-deep at its center. The family used it for cleansing their clothes and themselves. It was not as comfortable as the bathing chamber he and Phaedra had enjoyed at her estate in Kirkwall, and certainly not as warm, but it served its purpose.

Such as now, when all Fenris wanted was to sluice the blood from his skin and wash his hair.

He was sitting on one of the smooth, flat ledges molded into the side of the dam, leisurely scrubbing an old scrap of cloth up and down his arms, when somebody cleared their throat. Startled, he looked up to see Phaedra standing at the edge of the pond with a little smile crooking her lips. Balanced on her hip was Leda, their eldest daughter, and she was filthy. Her bright green eyes peered at him from behind a thick mask of drying mud, and her long white hair was matted into dirty brown dreadlocks. Little brown handprints decorated the front of Phaedra's dress and collarbone.

"What happened this time?" Fenris could not stop the question.

"Your daughter decided it was prudent to try and prevent another sunburn by coating herself with mud." Phaedra's eyes sparkled with humor.

The elf bit back his grin; funny though it was, their daughter did need to learn that her decision had been a poor one. A good father was not supposed to encourage such judgement, even if the sight of her made him want to laugh loud and long. "I assume you wish to bathe her?"

"You would be correct. I need a bath too, courtesy of the hug she gave me before I saw how dirty she was." Phaedra turned a little, displaying the Leda-shaped mudprint that decorated her back and hair. Now that she was at a different angle, Fenris could see the thin impressions of his daughter's arms just beneath her mother's, where she had initially embraced her.

"Well, the water's pleasant enough. Come in." He ducked his head into the pool to wet his hair, then began rubbing soap into it while his wife set Leda down and began stripping her clothes off. Phaedra's own garments quickly followed, and she carried their quiet daughter to the bench nearest his. They bathed in silence, enjoying the cool water and the warm sunshine on their skin. Fenris luxuriated in the presence of his family, although he did wonder where the youngest member was. Massaging the hair at the base of his skull into a thick lather, he glanced at Phaedra.

"Where is Rai'eena?"

"Napping." His wife ran the scrubbing cloth up and down Leda's back, scraping off the mud that had run down the neck of her dress. "I had just put her down when Leda ambushed me."

"Hm." He continued working his fingers through his soapy hair, enjoying the press and rub of the motions against his scalp. Beside him, Phaedra coaxed the mud from their daughter's limbs. Leda just sat quietly, her eyes glued to her father.

At last, Fenris rose from the bench and waded to a deeper area of the pool. He dropped beneath the water and scrubbed his hair quickly, rinsing the foam from the snowy locks. He surfaced, then repeated the manuever. Once certain that the soap was gone, he began wading back to the dam. Phaedra glanced at him before returning her attention to their silent child. Leda continued to stare at him, her eyes steady in spite of the wobbling motions caused by her mother lathering her hair. A bit disconcerted by her constant attention, the elf took his seat and leaned back against the dam, intending to relax in the water a bit longer.

"Pwetty."

The soft voice startled him, drawing his shocked gaze to the child sitting near him. "What did you say?"

Leda squirmed away from her mother, closer to the edge of her bench. Her little hands stretched towards him in a mute expression of desire. "Fathaw pwetty."

Phaedra laughed at the look on her husband's face. She gathered their firstborn into her arms and sat on the stone ledge, regarding him with affectionate mischief. "Yes, Father is pretty, isn't he? He's a very pretty man."

Fenris sat thunderstruck. Pretty? He was _pretty?_ That was not a word he would ever have used to describe himself. Attractive, perhaps, or strange. His wife called him a handsome man. But "pretty" was one of those terms he thought better suited to a woman, and certainly not himself. He stared at the white-haired ladies that he loved, too surprised to voice any dissent as Leda's fingers brushed against his arm, lightly pressing into the lyrium beneath his skin. He inwardly braced himself for the pain that inevitably accompanied any touch other than that of his wife.

But nothing happened.

"What in the...?" He looked down at the little digits clamped atop his forearm, shocked anew by the absence of the familiar pain. Phaedra had always been the only person who could touch him and not cause him any discomfort. Why wasn't Leda's touch hurting him?

Phaedra's mirth vanished upon seeing his expression. She stared at Leda's fingers, watched her trace the curling silver lines she herself loved to follow, then her eyes flew to meet those of her husband. "You're not in pain?"

Fenris slowly shook his head. She knew the signs; with anybody else, even the slightest touch would cause him to draw back with a quiet hiss of discomfort. He could ignore the pain, but only if he knew it was coming and prepared himself.

She bit her lip, lowering her gaze briefly before locking gazes with him again. "You don't think... Could she be a...?"

Phaedra hesitated to say the word, he knew, because of his opinion of her kind. He had long since come to terms with the fact that his wife was a mage, and an extremely powerful one at that. But his distrust of spellcasters continued to dog him, even after the Battle of the Gallows. He had always assumed that Phaedra's soothing touch was due to something unique about her, and the idea had found greater merit when he realized that the touch of his children caused him the same pain as that of any other person.

But if Leda had inherited her mother's abilities, and they were beginning to stir...

He clenched his fists against his thighs, keenly feeling the soft caress of his daughter's fingers. "Is there a way you can... test her? See if she is or not?"

His wife hesitated. "There is a game Father used to play with me and Bethany when we were children, to teach us finer control of our magic. He would toss us a little ball of magelight and tell us not to let it die. It would stay lit for us, but whenever one of us tried throwing it to Carver, it would wink out."

"Because he was not like you?"

"That's right. Leda?" The little girl twisted to meet her mother's gaze, her hands falling to rest atop her knees. "I have a game for us to play. Are you interested?"

"Yes, Mothaw."

Fenris watched as his wife lifted one hand from the water. Cool violet fire coalesced atop her palm, licking between her fingers as it gathered into a fist-sized ball. He didn't need to see Leda's face to know that she was enthralled; he too was fascinated by Phaedra's control of such a minor cantrip, in spite of having seen it many times before. She lightly tossed the ball a few times, then let it hover above her hand as she regarded Leda with a smile.

"I am going to give this to you. Don't let it go out, all right? Concentrate as hard as you can on keeping the fire alive."

Leda cupped her hands, bouncing lightly on her mother's knee. "Gimme, Mothaw! It won't go out!"

Phaedra looked at Fenris, then nodded slightly. His mind a swirl of apprehension and anticipation, the elf watched his wife roll the magelight off her fingers, into their daughter's hands.

The light wavered a bit, but it did not extinguish. Leda giggled and tipped her head back to regard her father with proud, shining eyes. _His_ eyes. "See, Fathaw? I didn't let it go out!"

Fenris couldn't breathe for the lump in his throat, the clench of his heart. Leda - his precious firstborn daughter - was a mage. She would walk in the Fade, and demons would tempt her, try to turn her into an abomination. Worse, she could become one of _those, _a damned blood mage, if she fell prey to their lies.

Leda squeaked and the light sputtered out as he grabbed her tight in his arms, holding her against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, breathing her scent so deep into his lungs that it seemed to touch his soul, steeling his resolve. He wouldn't let them have her. Demons would not touch his daughter. He would die before he let them take her.

"Fathaw, you'w skeezing me!" She wiggled in his embrace, trying to loosen his hold a little. Fenris did not let her go, afraid that the instant he did, she would be lost to him. Perhaps it was an irrational fear, but it was a very powerful one. Rai'eena was the daughter that tended to follow him about like a mabari pup, but Leda was his favorite. Her calm demeanor and astute, often unintentionally humorous, observations and questions reminded him greatly of her mother. Leda was the helper around the house, while her twin created most of the messes. For her to be at risk of possession was akin to the worst of nightmares in Fenris' mind.

"Fenris, if you hold her much tighter she won't be able to breathe." He became conscious of Phaedra's hands upon his upper arms, gently stroking the flesh in an attempt to calm him. "She isn't going anywhere, love. I promise she won't slip though your fingers if you ease your grip."

He raised his head, meeting his wife's brilliant green eyes. They gazed calmly into his own, silently conveying her own determination to protect their daughter. He relaxed then, and Leda scooted forward on his knee before twisting around to look at him.

"Did'n you like the light, Fathaw?" she asked, her eyes wide.

Fenris felt Phaedra's gaze as keenly as her touch, She was waiting for him to decide how he wanted to proceed. He recognized the test for what it was, unplanned though it may be. What would rule him, the past or the present? Fear...or trust?

He drew the cool spring air into his lungs, held it deep in an attempt to slow his spinning thoughts. The gazes of two of the most cherished people in his life burned into his skin, one patient and expectant, the other inquisitive and growing more nervous with each passing second. At last he opened his eyes and found those of his daughter, who was fighting the urge to fidget.

"Of course I liked it, Leda. I'm proud of you, for not letting it go out."

Leda's face split as she beamed at him, her little chest puffing with joy. Her father liked the light; that was all she dwelt upon. Phaedra's hands slid down his arms to rest atop his fingers, silently assuring him that she supported his decision. For his part, Fenris fought to slow his racing heart. Few mages were more powerful than his wife, once the Champion of Kirkwall. There was no better teacher for Leda in all of Thedas than the woman who had conceived, carried, and birthed her and her twin sister.

A sudden thought shattered what little progress he had made in calming himself down. Fenris shot a panicked look at Phaedra. "What about Rai'eena?"

Phaedra paled slightly and her brilliant eyes widened as she caught her husband's meaning. "Leda, I think we should go show the light to your sister. She will probably like to see you hold it, too."

The white-haired girl agreed with an exuberant giggle, and allowed her mother to pick her up and take her over to the old blanket the family used to dry themselves. Phaedra shot her husband a questioning look, but he shook his head. His legs lacked the strength to carry him from the pond right now.

Maker help him, if _both _of his daughters had inherited their mother's magic.


	4. Reminisce

**Summary: **Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

**Disclaimer: **In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

**Queen's Quornor: **This took forever to write. Just when I thought I was on a roll, someone would distract me and I'd lose sight of where I was going with this. But I finally finished this chapter, and have managed to post it! I don't know when I'm going to post on this particular drabble-fic again; I've got to update so many fics, especially "Danse Macabre" and "Turian Dreams." Plus I've got a very old promise to keep about "Seed." Then, of course, there's Real Life to worry about. _Le sigh._ I'll update the Fenris/Phaedra family fluff when I can, but I make no promises on when that will be.

Reminisce

_Phaedra's back hit the feather mattress hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She hardly noticed the hitch in her lungs, too focused on the man atop her. Their arms curled around each other, clutching desperately while they exchanged frenzied kisses. _

_ It had been far too long. All that time they had wasted tiptoeing around each other, all the awkward moments when awareness had suddenly shifted to that night three years ago and the miscarriage of their unborn child, the casual conversations that had been abandoned when their senses had narrowed into hungry focus upon each other... This had been surpressed in vain; their reunion was as impossible to resist as the moon's pull on the tides. All the sorrow and fear, the despair, melted away at the first touch of skin on skin, and in their place rose an inescapable and all-consuming hunger._

_ Clothing was virtually an afterthought, thrown aside with nary a care. Fenris' breastplate crashed against the floor beside her amulet. Her vest flew somewhere toward the window and his leggings slid between the bed and the wall. Maker only knew what happened to her breast-band and skirt. As for her underclothes, Fenris made certain they would never be used again. The torn shreds of intimately warmed cloth fluttered to the side as he knelt on his haunches, his back to the crackling fireplace, and she held her breath, eyes wide upon the lean form silhouetted by leaping flame. His scorching gaze slid down the curves and planes of her body, and when he finally dragged it back to meet her eyes, her breath caught at the sheer need they contained. _

_ He stretched atop her, circling his arms around her again. This time the kisses were slower, softer. But she felt the tension in the trembling length of his body, in the clutch of his long fingers. The hunger was tempered by his love, an emotion finally allowed to flow after being dammed for years. He needed her desperately, thirsted for her body and the satiation he knew she could offer, and he was forcing himself to slow so she could keep pace. _

_ This was the side of him that she alone had ever seen. With their friends he was quiet and aloof, occasionally exchanging witty banter with Varric and venom with Anders, and fending off Isabela's flirtatious queries. He kept everybody at a distance, allowed no more than the tiniest glimpse of the man behind the mask. He was untouchable, an enigma chained by a past that refused to let him be. But when he was with alone her, a very different man emerged. He was warmer and far more willing to discuss personal matters, even when wine was not involved. His memories were shared with her whenever he recovered them. He did not mind asking for her aid whenever she read with him. Fenris was a deeply emotional man, but he did not like others to witness his vulnerabilities. It wasn't that he did not trust their friends; he was simply far too accustomed to being alone and wary. _

_ Phaedra wound her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to his. Thank the Maker he had confided in her, and not refused her love. _

_ Still exchanging heated kisses, the couple ground together. Phaedra drew her leg along his, stroking the silky flesh. He always claimed her skin was softer than velvet, but in her opinion all that leather he wore made his far smoother to the touch. In response, he reached one hand down, lightly skimming his fingers along her thigh. _

_ Something scraped outside the door. _

_ Fenris froze above her, and Phaedra likewise held still, listening. His hearing was so much keener than her own. Whatever made the noise evidently was worth investigating, because he gave her a tortured look and rolled off the bed to land silently on his feet. Phaedra swallowed her disappointment and resolved to drag her lover right back to bed once this was over, whatever _this _was. It had been a few weeks since the incident at the Hanged Man, but tonight had been her first opportunity to check up on Fenris since resuming their relationship. She had been unable to visit him due to a lengthy excursion down to the Deep Roads to rescue an old comrade of Anders'; tonight was supposed to be their long-awaited reunion. _

_ It figured that something would see fit to interrupt them just when they were getting to the good part._

_ Fenris pulled on his leggings after fishing them out from behind the bed and snatched up his sword. He waited by the door, casting her an occasional hungry glance, while she slipped into her skirt and sleeveless vest. The clothing was a necessary evil; donning it meant they were losing time in tracking down the intruder, but it also gave their most important bits marginal protection in the event of a fight, as well as safety from wandering eyes. If Phaedra did not want to entertain the thought of what might happen should a blade get too close to Fenris' naked groin, then she was absolutely positive he would consider the idea a waking nightmare. As for herself, what woman would want an assailant to focus upon her breasts? She finished tugging the laces of her vest into a loose bow, securing the fabric closed, then found her staff leaning against the wall and mirrored her lover's position beside the door. Their green eyes met, hers almost neon and his glittering jade, and he yanked the portal open, leaping into the doorway with his massive sword at the ready. _

_ Hidden behind the door but preparing to swing around and bathe the intruder in conjured flame, Phaedra heard a startled "Oof!" and saw Fenris stumble back a couple paces, his thighs encircled by a pair of long, caramel-shaded arms. The mage blinked, then took a few cautious steps away from the door, still holding her spell and staff at the ready. Then she let out a profound, exasperated sigh. _

_ "Isabela, were you spying on us again?"_

_ The pirate twisted her head to regard her closest friend, her arms instinctively tightening as Fenris tried to escape her unexpected embrace. She kneed along with him, keeping her grip secure. Phaedra bit back the sudden anger that rose at the sight of Isabela's proximity to her lover's hips; the pirate's face was less than three inches away from them. _

_ "I forgot something here, and came back to get it. You can't blame me for being curious when I found this door - which has never, in all these years, been shut - closed and very intriguing noises coming from behind it." She tilted her head back to meet Fenris' annoyed expression, a satisfied smile curling her full mouth. "Nice to see you too, Fenris. If I'd known you would be this excited, I'd have never left in the first place." _

_ "Get off me!" he snapped, reaching back to unhook her arms and shove her away. Instead of sitting down in the nearest chair and crossing his legs like any other man would have done, the elf stood defiantly before her, his arms crossed over his bare chest, daring Isabela to comment on his obvious erection. _

_ Shaking her head, Phaedra dismissed her spell, flicking the last wisps of eerie blue spellfire from her fingertips. "You saw me come in here, Isabela. Have you really gotten this desperate, to spy on us? If your itch needs scratched that much, I'm sure Carver would be willing to oblige, so long as you make sure you don't have any communicable diseases first." _

_ "Hey! That was cleared up years ago, thank you!" Isabela rose to her feet with a haughty sniff. "And I really did forget something. I didn't realize it until I was halfway back to the Hanged Man. As for why I was listening through the door, I was curious. I hadn't taken either of you for the type to just jump back into bed, considering how long it's been. You've never gotten moon-eyed over anybody else, Hawke, and he hasn't so much as looked at another woman since you had him over."_

_ Fenris blew an impatient sigh. "Will you retrieve your item and leave us alone?"_

_ Isabela got to her feet, raising her hands in a placating gesture. "All right, fine. I'll be out of your hair in a minute." She walked to the table where she and the elf had been sitting earlier that evening, shooting Fenris an appreciative glance as she passed him. He turned with her, his handsome face twisted in a dark scowl. _

_ Phaedra leaned on her staff, watching the pirate search beneath the table with a mixture of irritation and amusement. Whatever the forgotten article was, she was willing to place money on it having been left intentionally when Isabela saw her coming through the door. She could see the little looks her friend was giving her lover from beneath the table. However, she couldn't really blame the other woman too much; with the moonlight streaming through the windows, Fenris' silver markings seemed almost alive, glimmering and dancing beneath his skin. _

_ All the same, if Isabela so much as laid a hand on the warrior again, Phaedra was not above sending an ice spell up her tiny tunic to cool things down. She wasn't sure she could ever forgive her for kissing Fenris, even if it was the catalyst which brought them together again. _

_ "Here it is!" Isabela held up a large diamond ring, flashing the stone in the firelight. "This little bugger slipped out of my pocket when I was leaving. I was at the merchant's stand when I realized it was gone."_

_ "Save it," Fenris snapped, nodding towards the open door. "You have your ring, now get going." _

_ "You don't have to be so pushy, you know. I was going," Isabela grumbled, slipping the ring between her ample cleavage. Phaedra sighed, declining to comment on the fact that the nosy pirate had no pockets from which the ring could have fallen. She accompanied her to the door, all too aware of the satisfied smirk curling the other woman's lips. Before she could shut the door, the pirate leaned back and twisted her head slightly to face her. _

_ "Have fun, sweet thing," she purred._

_ Phaedra pursed her lips, watching Isabela sashay down the stairs and out the front door. To make absolutely sure she was gone, she used her favorite icy dweomer to freeze the lock shut. That done, she made her way back to the sitting room, shutting the door firmly behind her._

_ Fenris was sitting on the bed, still clad in his pants. He looked up as she rounded the corner. "Is she gone?" _

_ "I made sure we won't be interrupted again for quite some time," the mage assured him, seating herself beside him. "Neither of us are going anywhere until the front door thaws." _

_ "Good." Quick as a flash, Fenris grabbed her and rolled her onto her back, pinning her beneath his body. Phaedra looked up at the half-naked warrior straddling her, mirroring his smile. "Now then. Where were we?"_

_ "I believe it was about here." She reached up and ran her fingers down the tight muscles of his stomach, toying with the laces of his pants. _

_ "No, it was more like this." He leaned down and took her lips in a searing kiss, rucking up the fabric of her skirt so it slid slowly up her sleek legs, beginning to bare her to the firelight. _

_ "That's right..." she whispered into his mouth, threading her fingers through his hair. _

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"I was so certain that would be the last time we would be interrupted," Fenris lamented, pulling his wife closer to his side and swirling the wine in the bottle, watching the flames illuminate the liquid within.

Phaedra laughed softly and cuddled against him, happy to share his warmth in the chilly house. "Well, neither of us anticipated children that night. Since we've had them, have we ever had a single night where we could enjoy each other's company without interruption?"

"At least we would have some peace if it was just the twins. They only sleep with us every now and then. When was the last time Malcolm slept in his own bed?"

She shook her head, feeling her smile widen. If their son wasn't sneaking into their room to crawl beneath the covers, he was begging his way into one of his sisters' beds. At a mere two years, he refused to sleep by himself for fear of unseen phantasms and hands reaching from beneath the bed. It was not uncommon for all three of the children to spend the night with their parents, especially because Fenris seemed incapable of denying them anything.

"Perhaps I should start freezing their doors shut. Just to get a night to ourselves, you understand," she teased.

"That's not such a bad idea..." he commented, tilting his head to the side so his long white hair brushed against hers. Fenris had decided not to cut his hair a few months ago, hoping to use it to keep his head and neck a bit warmer this winter.

"We can't just trap them in their room like that," Phaedra chided, lightly smacking his thigh in reprimand. "It would damage the door. Remember how hard it was to open your front door when I tried to leave the next morning?"

"You weren't so inclined to leave after I came downstairs, if memory serves," he purred.

"Well, you did give me good reason to stay."

He laughed lowly and leaned back against the headboard, resting his head against the wall. "Do you think he'll stay with the girls tonight?"

"As cold as it is tonight? Love, the reason I haven't jumped you yet is because I'm waiting to see if he'll try and sneak in here again." The mage glanced down the long lines of his body, then met his heated gaze with a seductive smile. "Although, if he does try to get in bed with us, he's going to wonder why we're breaking the rule."

"Just tell him it's too cold to sleep naked tonight," Fenris replied, stroking his hand down his wife's side.

"You really shouldn't lie to the children. Just tell him you're tired of getting kicked."

"No, that's what I have you for. You keep me from getting kicked."

She snickered. "But every time we spoon, the children wonder why their father refuses to get out of bed for a good ten minutes in the morning!"

"If you want to explain the facts of life to them, be my guest," he invited, coaxing her into sitting on his lap.

"Oh, no. We are not starting this until I'm sure we're not going to be interrupted again," she laughed.

"Then why are you sitting atop me?" Fenris murmured, hitching himself higher against the headboard. Phaedra kneed along with him.

"Perhaps I am being optimistic for once," she breathed, leaning down to steal a quick kiss.

His moss green eyes glittered with intent. "Go lock the door. Malcolm will have to sleep with his sisters while we work on giving them a new sibling."

"Fenris, you know that's not going to happen again." She drew back, her mouth turned into a playful frown.

"Well, that does not mean we can't have fun trying." He lifted his hips briefly, letting her feel how much the idea appealed to him. Phaedra's breath caught.

"We really should start sending him back to his own bed some nights," she gasped, nodding her head quickly.

"It's for his own good," Fenris agreed, smiling up at her. His fingers played about the swell of her hips, stroking her through the fabric of her shift.

"Give me a moment." Phaedra practically tumbled off the bed, bracing herself against the frame for a moment while her knees relearned how to hold her weight. Her husband still had the power to make her feel like it was the very first time all over again, after all this time. His satisfied laughter rolled across her skin like an invisible caress, and she shivered. As retaliation, she swayed her hips on her way to the door, and smiled when she heard his chuckle abruptly end.

There was a soft knock on the door, and a quiet groan from the direction of the bed.

"Mama? Dada? Can I sweep wi' you?" The voice was muffled and a little garbled. Malcolm probably had his thumb in his mouth again.

Phaedra looked back to her husband, reaching for her wool robe. Fenris was looking at her with a pleading expression, as well as the beginnings of exasperation. She nodded and opened the door. Their youngest stared up at her, his long white bangs falling across his bright green eyes. Sure enough, his lips were latched around his left thumb. His bare feet peeked from beneath his long nightshirt, which brushed the floor as he rocked slightly from side to side.

She had to close her eyes before she could answer. "No, not tonight, sweetheart."

"Why nowh?" he asked around his thumb, slurping back some drool.

"Your father and I would like to sleep by ourselves tonight."

"Why?"

"Because we're playing," Fenris growled softly. Phaedra didn't think he meant for his complaint to be audible, but their son heard it anyway.

"Can I pway, too? M' not sweepy!"

The mage sighed and glanced back at her husband, giving him a little frown. "We're playing a grown-up game, sweetheart. You're too young for it."

"No m' not!" he protested, his eyes huge in the dim light cast by the fire.

"Malcolm, go back to your own bed. Your mother and I want to be alone," his father ordered.

"My woom's cold!"

"We built you a nice big fire before you went to sleep. Your room is warm enough."

Malcolm rushed forward, wrapping his little arms around his mother's legs. He clung to the fabric of her thick winter robe, staring up at her with glistening eyes. "I don' wanna sweep in my bed, Mama! Thehw's monstwers!"

"There are no monsters under the bed, Malcolm. Your father checked for you before we put you down for the night, remember?" Phaedra looked down at her son with a rueful smile, feeling both affection and irritation welling within her. Malcolm sometimes did this - clung like a limpet until reassured that there wasn't anything beneath his bed.

"Thehw aw now!" he insisted, burying his face against her thigh.

Phaedra sighed and shook her head. "Fenris, I'm going to go put him back to bed. I'll be back in a few minute."

"Don't take long," came her husband's sullen reply.

Malcolm refused to let go of her leg, so Phaedra reached down to scoop him into her arms. The little boy laid his head on her shoulder, facing towards the wall. His mother rubbed his back soothingly as she headed towards his room, hoping he wouldn't fight too much tonight. Sometimes Malcolm would throw a tantrum of epic proportions when taken back to his own bed.

She nudged the his door open and stepped inside, noting that the fire had died down a bit. Shadows danced across the walls and pooled in the corners of the room. Malcolm clung tighter as she approached the bed, and she had to unwrap his arms before she could set him on the bed.

"Now show me where the monsters are hiding," she cajoled.

Malcolm spread his arms wide. "Evwywhe!"

"They can't be everywhere, sweetheart. There must be one place in particular where they like to go."

He huddled against his pillow, jamming his thumb in his mouth and regarding her with those huge green eyes again. Phaedra sighed and went to the wardrobe. Conjuring a ball of golden magelight, she opened the door and pawed through her son's clothes, standing off to the side so he could see the illuminated crevices within. Once she had finished with the wardrobe, she approached the bed and knelt down beside it, lifting the covers to peer beneath it.

"No monsters. It looks like you're safe tonight." She stood up and brushed her knees, then pulled her robe tighter around her body. "Now go back to sleep."

Malcolm allowed her to pull the blankets up over him, still sucking on his thumb as she tucked him in. "Can you weeve a wight, Mama?"

"Of course, sweetheart." Phaedra kissed his forehead and sent the magelight into the farthest corner, banishing the shadows. "Now, go to sleep. The monsters won't come in here while that light burns."

He smiled and turned onto his back, snuggling down beneath the blankets. His mother smoothed his hair, then removed herself from his room.

Fenris put his book aside as she opened the door and slipped back into their room. "I take it there are no monsters?"

"As usual, they fled at my approach." She lifted the covers and slipped in beside her husband, molding herself to his body in an attempt to steal his warmth. Fenris chuckled and slid down beside her in the bed, turning onto his hip to face her.

"You seem be cold," he observed dryly.

"So what are you going to do about this?" she asked, raising one snowy brow and smiling impishly.

Fenris rolled her beneath him, smirking down at her as he bent for a kiss.


	5. Puppy Love

**Summary: **Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

**Disclaimer: **In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

**Queen's Quornor: **I wanted to do something with older versions of Phaedra and Fenris' children, and since I just posted a chapter with Malcolm, I figured it was time to let Rai'eena have a turn in the spotlight.

Puppy Love

The wooden dummy flew from its stand, and the young swordswoman stalked to another target, already swinging her practice blade for the new dummy's neck. It connected hard enough to shake the straw-filled analog completely free, and Rai'eena had to pause and resettle it before continuing her training session.

Phaedra shook her head, feeling a wave of sympathy for her younger daughter. The poor girl never took rejection well, but at least this time she had saved her wrath for the dummies rather than explode at the subject of her affections.

"Would you care to tell me why our daughter is tearing apart all those dummies she made?" Fenris came to the window beside her and met her gaze before returning his jade eyes to the clearing beyond their bathing pool.

"She had a rough night. You know that hunter the girls have both been visiting, Talian?" At his nod, she continued. "He finally decided which of our daughters he preferred. Leda has been singing all morning."

"While Rai'eena is raging." Fenris sighed and pushed his fingers through his snowy hair. "Is there more to this, or did she merely see him with Leda last night?"

"Talian has always made it clear that he favors our eldest, and Rai'eena is merely a friend. But she dreamed of swooping in and stealing him for herself. You know what she's like when she doesn't get something she really wants."

"That's not what I meant," Fenris muttered, playing with a loose thread on his shirt.

Phaedra studies her husband, noting the fidgeting and the way his gaze now refused to meet hers. "I assure you, our daughters are still maidens. Talian has yet to lay a hand on either of them in that manner."

"How do you know?" he asked, peeking at her through his long bangs. In the clearing, Rai'eena bull-rushed an unfortunate dummy and smashed its blank face with the pommel of her wooden sword.

"Because they both enjoy telling me everything where he is concerned, and Rai'eena was particularly vocal in her disappointment with his refusal to do anything more than embrace her. As for Leda, the most he has done is kiss her. We don't have to worry about any grandchildren just yet."

Her husband visibly relaxed. "That's good."

The mage smiled and went to him, snaking an arm about his thin waist and leaning against him. "Did you ever think having daughters would be this stressful, love?"

"I knew Rai'eena was going to be a handful when she got older. But I didn't think it would be this bad." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. "Come to think of it, doesn't she have her own admirer?"

Phaedra nodded. "His name is Nalamir, and he's from the same clan as Talian."

"They're not related, are they?

"Not to my knowledge." She smiled, considering the two Dalish sniffing around their daughters. Talian was dark of hair and light of eyes, as well as exceedingly tall for an elf. He had a good foot on Fenris, who himself was taller than the average. The hunter was more than proficient at his craft, an excellent stalker and very skilled with his bow. As lean as any Dalish, he moved with an unconscious, lazy grace that stirred thoughts of great cats on the hunt. But from what Leda had described, those thin limbs held a surprising degree of power. He could pull the largest bow Phaedra had ever seen, and that alone spoke of enormous strength. Talian was very polite and kind, though her daughters' reports contained mention of hidden passion for his craft. The mage knew he was an untamed soul, in spite of his manners; she recognized in the hunter the same sort of wilderness that once ruled Fenris. Was it any wonder their daughters had been so taken with the blue-eyed Dalish?

Nalamir, the male who had come calling on Rai'eena a few times, was not quite so striking in his looks as his clan-mate. His long hair was a dark brown, and his eyes the standard deep green of his people. Average in height and build, there was little that seemed to stand out about him in comparison to the rest of the clan. But unlike Talian, Nalamir's tattoos were his most outstanding physical quality. The Keeper of their clan had encircled his eyes and filled the outlines with dark ink, then inscribed trailing vines along his cheeks and forehead, following the contours of his face. His forest-colored eyes gazed out from twin pools of darkness, drawing the sight of others directly to their depths. Within those eyes, Phaedra had witnessed a keen intellect at work, one even sharper than most mages she had known. Nalamir was a craftsman, not a hunter, but he could shape ironwood to a degree that even Master Ilen, the crafter from Merrill's old clan, could not attain. He was quieter than any elf she had met, but when he spoke it was rarely without reason. The craftsman also had a mischeivious quality that she found charming, and would sometimes make observations calculated to startle a laugh from her. Nalamir didn't always visit just to call on Rai'eena; he had managed to foster a friendship with Malcolm and their mother, and sometimes he would come by just to chat for a few hours.

Fenris had not been introduced to Nalamir yet. The craftsman would usually visit in the morning, after the older male had departed for the forest. By the time her husband returned, he had already gone back to his aravel for the night.

"I think that you will like Nalamir, Fenris," she told him. "He has a number of qualities that would balance out Rai'eena's, and he does seem to like her. I enjoy his company when he comes to visit Malcolm."

Her husband grunted. "I don't mind Talian. He's always treated our daughters well, and while I feel sorry for Rai'eena, I expected this would happen sooner or later. Leda seems a better match for him, personality-wise."

"I agree. But Rai'eena doesn't see it that way." She smiled up at him, knowing that her light green eyes were glittering. "He reminds me of you, and you know how she has always idolized her father. Finding a male who carries similar personality traits must have seemed Maker-sent to her."

Fenris laughed, watching their secondborn stomp a fallen dummy into the dirt. "I hope she took note of the fact that I preferred a woman who could calm my primal side, even when offered a choice between one such woman and another who oozed sex appeal to every man within the city. Men such as myself often seek females who can compliment us in all aspects of life, not just behind closed doors."

"I don't think it ever occurred to her that she should take us as an example. After all, we're her parents. We are not as worthy of observation as other couples would be, and Rai'eena is stubborn enough to try and force something that simply isn't meant to be." The mage shook her head, feeling Fenris' arm tighten around her. "I suppose we should consider it a blessing that she never got to know Isabela. Maker only knows what she might have picked up if she had."

"I shudder to think upon such things." The couple watched Rai'eena's sword go flying as she threw it as hard as she could, and then begin stalking back in the direction of the house. "It appears we are about to perform some damage control."

"Lucky us." She slipped out of Fenris' grasp and lightly stepped across the kitchen, pretending to check the birds she had left roasting on the spit. Rai'eena stormed in a minute later and flung herself down on a chair at the table, scowling at nothing in particular.

"I hate men," she growled.

"You seem to be in a bad mood," Fenris observed dryly from his spot by the window.

Rai'eena muttered something under her breath and smacked her hand on the table. "Father, why do they do it? Why are they always interested in Leda, and never me?"

"Surely Leda isn't the only woman they find appealing. If she was, we would have been neck-deep in Dalish by now," Phaedra pointed out.

"They always like girls like her!" The young woman crossed her ankles and leaned forward, laying her forehead upon her folded hands. "What am I doing wrong, Mother? What is it?"

The two adults exchanged glances and Phaedra went to sit beside their younger daughter, unable to see her face for the spill of deep scarlet hair that trailed across the tabletop. "You're not doing anything wrong, love. You just have qualities that not every man can appreciate, that's all."

"Don't you dare tell me that I need to wait for the right man to come along, Mother. I don't want to sit here until I'm some old hag before I finally find him."

"Don't speak to your mother like that," Fenris reprimanded, favoring her with a scowl of his own.

"Sorry," she mumbled. The red-haired girl pushed herself back up and wiped at her sweaty face, resting her cheek in her left palm as she regarded her parents with stormy green eyes. Her black kohl had run, though whether the cause was sweat or tears Phaedra could not say. "I'm just so tired of this. Tired of getting my hopes up, of finding some male that I really like, only to see him go off with someone else. I mean, I really liked Talian, Mother! I thought he liked me, too!"

"Love, you knew how much he liked Leda. Whenever he came to visit, she's the one he asked after. The only times he went walking with you were when you caught him first, and bullied him into it." Phaedra regarded Rai'eena's glare calmly, hoping her daughter would listen for once. "Then there was the time you interrupted the two of them on the trail. Remember how upset your sister was afterward?"

"Imagine how angry Talian must have been," Fenris added. "That was their first afternoon together after the clan returned to this forest. He must have been looking forward to seeing Leda ever since they left two years ago."

"Sod that. I missed him, too!" Rai'eena banged her fist on the table, making the candles jump. Her parents looked on, unimpressed with such childish displays. "The last time he saw me, I was so awkward and gangly, and Leda was so..._elegant._ So mature. I thought that if he saw me now, since I've finally grown into something pretty, he might realize that I'm better than she is."

Fenris seated himself next to the fuming girl, careful to keep some distance between them. Much as she loved her father, there was a good chance she might lash out at him. She had gotten better about it, but there were still occasions when her temper truly ruled her. "Looks and grace are not what attracted him to your sister. You both met Talian when you were eleven, remember? You were busy ogling Master Lanaias' blades, and she was bored."

"Then she went to the hahren's fire, and started listening to the stories. She and Talian started asking questions about one of the tales, and when Hahren Rian finished they continued chatting," Phaedra continued. "They were fast friends, and it turned to attraction through time and distance. A bond like that is not so easily transferred to another, even if it is a sibling."

"But she's a mage. Dalish don't like mages!" the young woman seethed.

"That isn't it, Rai'eena. The Dalish hold magic in higher regard than the rest of Thedas. It has always been a part of the elven heritage, even if the Keepers and their Firsts don't perform in public." Fenris met his wife's steady gaze, and favored her with a little smile. "They see magic as a powerful gift, one which is never to be used lightly. The Dalish mages do not often use their spells because they do not wish to become dependent on their power. It is a lesson I believe many could appreciate, were they to learn of it."

"Talian and Nalamir have led me to believe that she would be a welcome addition to the clan, as Keeper Enthrain does not have much talent for the healing arts." Leda had inherited not only her mother's magic, but also her affinity for mending wounds of the body and soul. The elder twin was well on her way to becoming a faith healer of high calibur, especially given her calm nature. Leda's bedside manner comforted the sick and injured as even Phaedra and Anders could not.

"I don't _care _about her joining the clan!" Rai'eena's fist slammed down, rattling the table. "I wanted Talian, and now she has him. Where does that leave me, Mother? I don't want to stay here in the woods forever. This isn't where I belong."

The mage echoed her husband's sigh. She and Fenris had discussed their younger daughter's behavior at length, and at times they had speculated that, in a sense, Phaedra had given birth to her brother's daughter. Rai'eena shared many attitudes with her uncle, in spite of having never met him. Just as Carver had been at a loss in Lothering, so his niece was floundering in the forest, and she knew it.

A knock at the door interrupted their gloomy thoughts, and Fenris rose to answer. Phaedra smiled when she saw Nalamir standing outside the portal.

"Good morning, Hawke. I suppose you must be her husband?" The Dalish inclined his head towards the white-haired elf, a polite smirk curling his lips. "I am Nalamir."

"It's always a pleasure to see you. What brings you out here today?" Phaedra inquired, rising to greet him. Her sharp eyes did not miss the way Rai'eena tensed when she realized who had entered the house. The rosy cast to her face, originally due to her anger and the slaughter of the dummies, now deepened into a true blush.

"I came to see how Rai'eena is today." His deep green eyes fell upon the maiden's back. "Talian seemed extremely pleased last night, and I know he spent time with Leda."

"Yes, Leda has been in a very good mood today. Such has not been the case for the entire family, as you can imagine." Phaedra beckoned for Fenris to join her at the table, pleased that he seemed to accept the younger elf's presence in their home. Her husband had long since realized that his daughters were going to grow up and find men of their own, and nothing he said or did would prevent it. Thankfully, he accepted her judgement when it came to their daughters' suitors.

"I saw the clearing. I feel sorry for those dummies." Nalamir kept some distance between himself and the young woman, although Phaedra saw in his eyes his desire to go to her. "I thought it would do some good for you to get out of the house, Rai'eena."

"Why? Because you feel sorry for me?" she snarled, twisting in her chair to face him. "Is that the only reason you keep hanging around here? Because you knew Talian would choose my sister? Well I don't need your sodding pity!"

"Rai'eena!" She wilted a little beneath her parents' reprimand. Nalamir crossed his arms and walked to the window, where she could better see him.

"You do not have my pity, because you do not deserve it," he told her. "What you do have are my ear and my shoulder, and my hand upon the trail, if you wish it. Will you come with me?"

The scarlet-topped girl was visibly surprised, and she looked to her parents for help. Fenris raised a brow at the young elf, but raised no protest. Phaedra merely folded her hands upon the table and regarded her expectantly. At last, Rai'eena rose to her feet and turned to the Dalish.

"I will go with you," came her quiet reply.

Nalamir nodded, and Phaedra detected the tiny smile dancing about his lips. He held the door open for his intended and Rai'eena threw her parents one last nervous look before leading him outside.

"So that is the Dalish you told me I should really meet?" Fenris murmured.

His wife grinned and rose to peer through the window. "He is. Nalamir has been careful in his pursuit of our daughter, but I believe he is going to chase her in earnest now. She needs a distraction from Talian, and I am certain he can provide one."

The white-haired elf joined her at the window, watching the young couple disappear between the trees. "So long as it returns some peace to our home. But are you certain that courting Dalish is truly what you want for our daughters? The clans are still nomadic, you know."

"I am aware of that, yes." Phaedra folded her arms and leaned against his side, taking comfort in the arm he wrapped around her waist. "We can't keep them in the forest forever, love. Sooner or later, they will both leave to make their own ways in life. Malcolm seems content to remain beneath the trees, but the twins want more. If they are going to leave, what better way than with a clan of Dalish who routinely return to the Brecillian? At least this way, we will see them from time to time."

"True, but will the clan as a whole accept them? Our children are all half-elven, and you know how they value racial purity."

"I believe the issue will be far easier in Leda's case than Rai'eena's. The Dalish do value magic, and she is turning into one of the best healers I have ever seen. She might be welcomed into the clan, even if she never becomes Enthrain's First."

"But Rai'eena might not find it so smooth. She's a warrior, not a mage." Fenris sighed and turned his wife to face him. "You realize that we now have the entire house to ourselves? When was the last occasion?"

Phaedra thought for a moment. "When the clan returned to the forest. Remember? Our children all went racing to the camp the moment they realized they were back."

"Malcolm and Leda are out gathering herbs, and Rai'eena is preoccupied with her suitor." The white-haired elf began edging towards the stairs, leading his wife by the hands. "What would you say to...taking advantage of our solitude?"

She took in the mischief sparkling in his eyes, the knowing curve of his lips. With an exaggerated sigh, the mage slipped past him and mounted the steps. "If you insist, I suppose I must comply." She started climbing to the second floor, making sure her hips swayed enticingly with each step.

Fenris growled, and Phaedra's laughter rang throughout the house as he chased her up the stairs.


	6. A Hands Off Policy

**Summary:** Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

**Disclaimer:** In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

**Queen's Quornor:** Okay, so from Rai'eena to Leda. I think I might try to keep a pattern going with the children, switching back and forth between them in this order. Not sure. Anyway, Rai'eena had her little hissy fit in the last chapter, and now I think it's time to take a look at her older twin at that age. Since she was chosen by Talian, I think it's time Leda begins to plan her future.

A Hands Off Policy

Song filled the air, sweet and pure, a carefree expression of the happiness coloring the perceptions of a certain white-haired maiden on this misty morning. Leda bound the stems of several fragrant flowers together with twine, hanging them on a nail upside down to dry. At her feet a white fox sat patiently, its red eyes watching the young woman as she worked. Its fuzzy ears perked as she sang, and its pink nose twitched at the sweet smell of the blossoms.

Phaedra leaned against the door to the herb room, watching her eldest daughter as she mulled over the latest news concerning Leda and Talian. According to Malcolm, the pair had come home uncharacteristically late last night. The Dalish had, of course, departed for his clan's camp shortly after leaving his intended at her door, but the youngest Hawke child had reported that their good-night kiss was much longer than usual, and even more passionate than that of the night he had chosen Leda over her twin.

Uncharacteristic behavior indeed, as Leda was by far the more reserved of the twins. The girl usually exuded serenity.

Phaedra had been lucky. Fenris had already departed on his hunt for the day, and thus had not heard this report when their son had come downstairs for breakfast. The mage had a suspicion she knew the reason for Leda's joy, and knew that if her husband were to arrive at the same conclusion, their eldest child would be forced to don some sort of contraption to prevent intimate physical exploration. Fenris had fostered a friendship with the ironwood shaper of Talian's clan, and could likely convince him to craft such a device on his behalf, custom-fitted for Leda. But as it was, he had no idea.

It would be much better for everyone involved if his unawareness continued for the foreseeable future.

But first, she had to discern whether she had cause for worry.

"Good morning, Leda," she greeted.

"Hello, Mother!" came the joyous reply. Leda twirled to face the elder mage, a smile spreading her pink lips wide. "It is a glorious morning, is it not? I can't remember the last time I saw one this beautiful!"

The fox trotted over to Phaedra and leaned against her leg, staring at her with imploring eyes. The mage smiled and scratched it behind its ears, resulting in a happy yip from the albino canine. "It is a lovely morning. All that rain before sunrise turned out to be a good thing, although I certainly do not envy your father. He had to go out while it was pouring."

"It was still drizzling when I went out to pick feverfew. I didn't get too wet, as you can see." She spun again, letting her skirt flare out and wrap around her legs with a little laugh. "Although, I don't think I would have minded getting wet. It seems like a good day to dance in the rain, should the opportunity arise."

"I suppose." Phaedra went to the table and took some of the flowers from her daughter's basket, beginning to tie them in bunches. "You certainly seem happy this morning."

"You would be too, if you had such a wonderful night as I!" Leda reached back and pulled her snowy tresses into a high ponytail, securing it with a length of green ribbon. "Talian proposed!"

The feverfew fell from her mother's hands, and a number of the blossoms tumbled off the table onto the floor. The fox sniffed at them inquisitively, then sneezed and retreated to his place by Leda's bare feet. Phaedra stared at her eldest child, absolutely speechless.

"Mother? I said he proposed." The young woman came around the table and took her mother's hands in her own, her joy swiftly replaced by concern. "Are you all right?"

Phaedra's mouth worked, but no sound emerged. She forced herself to swallow before she attempted speech again. "He asked you to marry him?"

"Yes, he did!" Leda pulled the neckline of her dress down, revealing an ornate beaded necklace. Long beads of polished bone were interspersed by globes of pale green and soft gold, and long wolf's teeth cradled a pendant of gleaming amber. Within that golden stone rested a tiny flower, forever encased within the hardened sap. "He made this for me, and when he gave it to me he asked if he could have my hand in marriage!"

"And your reply?"

"I said 'yes'!" The white-haired maiden spun away from her mother, twirling in the faint sunbeams within the window. Her happiness was almost palpable, and Phaedra had to stop herself from grinning at her eldest daughter's antics. She had not seen her behave in this manner since she was a very young child.

"That's wonderful, Leda. Is that why you were out so late last night? You were discussing wedding plans?" she asked, hoping that was the only cause for her daughter's celebration.

"Well, not exactly." Leda stopped and clasped her hands, lowering her head so she did not meet her mother's gaze. Her cheeks flushed a soft rose, and she bit her lip. "Mother, I..."

Phaedra waited for her to finish her confession, suspecting that the sinking feeling in her gut was a confirmation of her deepest fear. She and Fenris had long known this day would come, but both had hoped that it would be a very long time in approaching.

"Talian and I..." The maiden stopped and cleared her throat, then went back to tying the feverfew. "We were out very late last night, and if you recall it was a full moon. He took me to that ridge that rises above the forest, the one with the ruins, and when he asked me to wed him, one thing led to another, and we..." She gestured helplessly, her blush deepening. "You know. What you and Father do."

"I see." The older mage examined her eldest child, noting the nervous energy emitting from the young woman's shoulders. A woman she was now, no longer a maiden. An adult. "Were you careful?"

"I used that contraceptive spell you showed me. I had to look through your grimoires until I found it."

Which explained why that particular volume had been missing from the shelf this morning. Phaedra had noticed its absence, but had not thought it connected with Leda's late return. Evidently she should have. "That's good."

Leda peeked at her mother, her bright green eyes curious. "You're not upset?"

"No, I'm not." Phaedra came around the table and took her daughter's hands in her own, gripping them tightly. "I'm not surprised that you and Talian have taken this step, and I'm proud of you for remembering something which I did not when placed in the same situation. You will not have to face the issue I did. I am truly happy that is the case."

"What issue?" The younger mage cocked her head to the side in question. "I don't understand what you mean."

A sigh escaped Phaedra's lips. Perhaps it was time she revealed this story to her daughter, and explained why she was not upset with her for remembering to cast the spell after her first tryst. "Leda, when do you think your father and I first got together?"

The younger woman tilted her head to the opposite side, sending her white ponytail spilling across her bare shoulder and arm. "I think you told us that you and Father started seeing each other a few weeks before the Battle of the Gallows. Was it not shortly after he killed his old master?"

"That is when we solidified our relationship, yes. But it was not the first occasion we spent time as a couple rather than friends and comrades-in-arms." Phaedra boosted herself onto the table, sweeping the flowers out of the way first. That done, she patted the spot beside her. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Leda looked at her for a moment, then lifted herself up beside her mother and sent a quick gesture to the fox. The albino canine padded to the far corner of the room and curled up, closing its eyes for a quick nap. "What did you not tell me, Mother?" she asked, her face solemn.

Phaedra clasped her hands in her lap, imagining that the old scar on her abdomen was burning as she dredged up the memories. "Before I became Champion, your father was running from Tevinter hunters. He found sanctuary with me, and became my closest friend over the course of four years. But he was always wary of pursuit, and before Danarius found us, there were two incidents with slavers searching for him. The first was the one which brought us together, when he claimed Danarius' mansion for his own. The second was years later, before the qunari attacked Kirkwall." She closed her eyes and sighed; all these years later, and the pain of that year, of her losses, yet remained. "Your father and I, along with Anders and Isabela, were combing the coastline for a nest of Tal'Vashoth that had been plaguing travelers in the area. During that time, a band of slavers came upon us and demanded that I hand over your father."

"You refused, of course," Leda interjected with a satisfied nod.

"Of course." A faint smile tugged at her lips, and she continued. "Your father managed to coerce one into telling us the location of their leader, who turned out to be Danarius' apprentice Hadriana. We tracked her to an old slavers' den in the hills, and eventually we found her. When she was beaten, she offered information about your father's sister in exchange for her life."

"Father has a sister?"

"_Had _a sister. She was Varania, the woman who betrayed your father's location to Danarius in order to become his apprentice." She patted her daughter's hand as Leda mulled over that part. Fenris had only told his children the bare minimum when it came to his final encounter with his former master; he had never shared the tie between himself and Varania. The woman was not only dead, but disowned. "Anyway, your father agreed to spare Hadriana's life for the information. But the memories of the abuse he had suffered at her hands proved too much."

"He killed her, didn't he?" Leda sighed. "Father cannot help himself at times. But I can't condemn him for that, not when I know the reason for his hatred."

"Precisely. But at the time, I underestimated the extent of your father's anger, and when I asked him if he wanted to talk about what she had said to him, he lost his temper. He ranted about how he couldn't trust her claims about this sister of his, whom he had no idea existed, as well as how magic corrupts everything, and how evil its influence was upon its practitioners." Phaedra leaned forward, resting her forearms on her thighs, allowing her hair to fall forward and curtain her profile from her daughter. "I had never seen him that angry before, and it took me aback. I had been trying to help him understand that not all mages were evil, but in that moment it seemed as though all my words had been erased from his mind. He actually seemed to forget that I was a mage myself. But when he remembered, the fight just left him. He said that he needed to go, and ran off, leaving the three of us behind. Isabela and Anders tried to comfort me, but it didn't stop me from feeling as though I had somehow let him down by not following him right then. I searched for him when we returned to Kirkwall, but he was not at any of his usual haunts. To this day, I have no idea where he went after that."

"How long was he gone?"

The older mage rubbed her eyes. "No more than a few hours. When I returned to my estate, he was waiting for me. He wanted to apologize for his outburst, and explained to me why he had been unable to let Hadriana go after giving his word that he would let her live. The things she did to him..." Phaedra shook her head; Leda did not need to know the full extent of her father's suffering. If Fenris wanted her to know, he would tell her himself. "When he was finished, I was glad she was dead. She was one of your father's greatest torments in Minrathous, and her death was justified. After telling me all that, your father apologized again for burdening me with his past when he had only come to make amends, and started to leave. I didn't want him to think that I was unwilling to hear about it, or that I was upset with him, so I tried to stop him. But when I did, I accidentally touched his arm."

Leda frowned. "Father doesn't like being touched? He doesn't seem to mind whenever we hug him or anything."

Phaedra allowed a smile chuckle to escape her. "It's less that he does not like being touched and more that he is averse to allowing anybody to touch his markings. Do you remember how he acquired them?" Leda nodded slowly, biting her lip. "The memory of that pain remained with him for years afterward, and even today it bothers him whenever somebody touches them. You and I are the only exceptions. Have you noticed how he always tenses whenever Malcolm and your sister touch him?"

Leda's frown deepened, crinkling the flesh between her white eyebrows. "Why are you and I exempt? Is it because we are mages, or because we are spirit healers? Did he ever flinch when Uncle Anders tried to heal him?"

"I suspect it doesn't bother him when we touch him because of our magic. The lyrium recognizes us, and it welcomes our touch. However, I cannot verify that it is all mages or just the two of us because he never allowed Anders to touch him. Your father cannot stand your uncle, after all. He tolerates him, but unless he's in danger of dying he won't let Anders anywhere near him."

Leda chewed on that for a moment while her mother continued the tale. "When I grabbed his arm, he reacted as though I was a threat. He grabbed me and pushed me against the wall, holding me in place while his markings flared. It took him a few seconds before he realized that it was me, and he was immediately sorry. I could see in his eyes that he was about to run off again, ashamed of himself for losing control like that, and I was afraid that if he left again, it would be permanent. So I did the only thing I could think of to keep him in place."

"What did you do?"

"I kissed him."

The young woman snickered, covering her mouth with her hand. In the corner, the fox perked up for a bit but settled back down when it realized she wasn't about to call for it. "You got Father to calm with a kiss? I didn't realize you could do that, Mother."

"It was an impulse. I'm not sure who was more surprised by it - your father or me. But while it caught us both off-guard, he returned it. That shocked me; we had flirted a few times, but we were not a couple. The topic of exploring a deeper relationship had arisen only once prior to that night, and while he was receptive to the idea, your father was very hesitant about being with me because he was insecure. He was unable to recall if there had been another woman before he was marked, and aside from that, there was the fact that I was a noble whereas he was a runaway slave, an elven slave at that. The fact that I was a mage did not matter so much to him at that point as my status compared to his, and I chose to let him decide if he wanted to be with me or not. But that night, such things just fell away and there was only the two of us. We were simply Phaedra and Fenris." She fell silent, closing her eyes as the memory of that first night rose. It had been decades, and the recollections of passion they had shared, the act of giving herself to the man she loved, how easily they had fallen into rhythm with each other still melted her heart. There had been many passionate nights since then, but none had ever felt quite so innocent and intimate as the first time.

"You spent time with him, in other words." Leda's comment broke her mother's trance, and Phaedra felt a slight blush rise to color her cheeks. She dipped her head, hoping to it behind her hair.

"I did. Your father is the only man to have known me in that manner, and to his knowledge I am the same for him."

"So that was the beginning of your relationship? Did he ask you to marry him afterwards?" The eagerness in her daughter's voice made her heart ache, but Phaedra took a deep, cleansing breath and made herself continue.

"No, he did not. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Meaning...?"

"He left me."

Leda stared at her mother, her mouth open. "Father _left _you? How could he do that? Father loves you more than anything else in the world!"

In spite of herself, Phaedra could not stop a chuckle from leaving her. It was nice to know that her eldest daughter was so willing to stick up for her mother's honor. "You must remember that your father was not as confident a man back then as he is now. He was still very insecure about his status as a runaway slave, and there was another factor which neither of us had anticipated. During our time together, there was a moment when your father's memories returned to him in their entirety. For just a heartbeat, he could recall everything that had occured in his life prior to the ritual, and then in the next it was all gone again. That shook him, and when I finally came to he was deeply upset by this second loss of his memory. He told me that we were moving too fast, and that he was not capable of such a relationship at that time. He just wasn't strong enough to risk regaining and losing his memories every time he was with me, and there was no way for me to reassure him. He told me that all he wanted was to be happy, for just a little while, and that since such a thing had happened he felt like a fool. I'm not sure whose heart was more broken: my own for him, or his for the loss and for ending the relationship like that." She ignored the ache in her heart; it had been so long, and they were married now. She had forgiven Fenris years ago. "I can honestly say that I have never seen your father look so defeated as he did when he left my room that night."

"But if he left you, how did you end up married to each other?" Leda asked, lacing her fingers together.

"I will get to that in due time." Phaedra leaned back on the table, pillowing her head upon her arms and staring up at the ceiling. The rafters were accumulating cobwebs again. Perhaps sweeping them away would be Rai'eena's punishment when next she misbehaved. The younger of the twins loathed spiders. "What happened next was part of the reason why we were brought back together, but also why we remained in a state of limbo for five years."

"What, Uncle Anders asked to court you next?" Leda inquired with a laugh.

Phaedra chuckled and shook her head. "If I had become anything more than his dearest friend, your father would never have forgiven me. Maker, he might have even given Anders a complete thrashing for pursuing me. No, I never attempted to catch the eye of any man aside from Fenris. From the very beginning, he was the only one I wanted."

The younger mage scooted back upon the table, crossing her legs and leaning upon her hands. "Then what happened?"

"I began to feel very poor not long after that night. I was preoccupied with various errands and important matters around Kirkwall, so I paid little attention to my condition, thinking that it was simply due to spending all of my time investigating situations for the Viscount and attempting to keep the peace between the city and the qunari, not to mention investigating every little mishap that occurred at the Bone Pit. After a few weeks, I decided to let Anders take a look at me. He was far more acquainted with illnesses than I was, and more adept at prescribing treatments for them. My speciality was injury and mental disorders. When he took the time to examine me, he was able to determine the cause of my ailment very quickly."

Leda considered her mother, then spun on the table to face her directly. "You didn't use the contraceptive spell, did you," she stated.

"You always were the smart one." Phaedra sighed and closed her eyes to the sunlight beginning to creep across the table from the window. "I was so emotional after your father left me, it simply did not cross my mind to cast it. I cried myself to sleep that night and when I awoke, I threw myself into the first matter that arose, which turned out to be searching for my own mother. I never thought to use the spell until Anders told me I was expecting, and then it was too late."

"So, I have an older brother or sister somewhere?" Leda asked. Before her mother could reply, she frowned and shook her head. "No, that couldn't be. You and Father would never secrete a child somewhere, and neither would you abort one." She licked her lips and turned a troubled green gaze upon the older healer. "Mother, did you have...?"

"You're right. I did not abort the pregnancy, nor did I bear my child and adopt it out. I lost it." Phaedra took a deep breath and removed one hand from behind her head, resting it atop her abdomen and the scar beneath her dress. Ignoring her eldest's sorrowful eyes, she continued. "A few weeks after my examination, the tensions between the qunari and the city rose to a boiling point. They attacked, and every able-bodied warrior attempted to stop the assault. My friends and I divided into two groups to minimize the damage as best we could. My group, which consisted of your father, Anders, and Varric, headed to Hightown to try and save as many lives as possible. The qunari had taken the Keep and they were dragging every noble they could find into the audience chamber. There, their plan was to offer them a choice: submit to the Qun or die. They had already beheaded Viscount Dumar by the time we arrived. I tried to reason with the Arishok, but he was trapped in the city because of the missing book. You remember that part, don't you?"

Leda nodded. "Aunt Isabela stole the Tome of Koslun for her boss, and lost it when she wrecked her ship. She was searching for it the entire time she was with you, and once you found it, she ran off with it." The younger mage examined her nails, smiling. "But she brought it back."

"That she did. She was too good of a friend to simply leave us like that. But merely returning the book was not enough to satisfy the demands of the Qun." Phaedra closed her eyes. She could ignore the pain. She had kept this part of the story from her children long enough. "The Arishok demanded that we give them Isabela as well, so she could repent for the theft. After she risked so much to do the right thing, I couldn't let them have her. This was where all those days of running errands for the qunari and speaking with the Arishok paid off: he had recognized me as 'basalit-an', which means that I had his respect and a certain standing in the eyes of the Qun. It is basically a title which means that I have equal standing to any qunari warrior, despite not being a follower of the Qun. I had the right to challenge the Arishok for Isabela's life.

"I had not told anyone that I was pregnant. Anders knew, and at the time I was unaware that your Uncle Varric knew. But none of the others had any idea, especially not your father. I was waiting to tell him until he decided what he was going to do about his memories, and the information Hadriana had given him regarding his sister. I wanted to tell him, but that was hardly the time to do so. Even if I had come out and told everyone that I was carrying a child, it would not have done any good. I was the only basalit-an the Arishok had recognized. I was the only one with the right to face him in a duel. So I kept it to myself and accepted the challenge. But during the duel, he managed to wound me severely." She licked her lips and continued. "He stabbed me right here." Her fingers traced the hidden scar. "Then he lifted me in the air, so I slid down the length of the blade. I channeled a Tempest spell directly into his body and killed him, but the sword remained in my body. I lost consciousness shortly after that."

"Why didn't you heal yourself? Were you afraid the sword would become fused in your body?" Leda asked.

"I didn't have the magic for it. The duel had consisted of me running around the room, casting spells whenever I dared, and evading the Arishok's swings. I had worn him down but that last spell took the remainder of my strength. Anders was the one who healed me, although he had to do it carefully. He had to pinpoint the exact spots where he needed the spells to take effect, without closing the wounds. I nearly died, but he managed to keep me alive. However, before he could begin healing me, I miscarried. The wound was too severe and in the wrong place. My baby was likely killed instantly."

Leda reached out and took her mother's hand, gripping it tightly in her own. Phaedra kept her eyes shut, but she returned the firm hold. Of all her children, this was the one who could best sympathize with another person's pain. It was one of the qualities which made her daughter a first-class healer. "Mother, I am so sorry... I never would have guessed something like this happened."

"That's because I did not want it widely known. Only my friends and your father knew, and they kept it a secret from all of Kirkwall. Your Uncle Carver only found out years later, when I revealed that I was pregnant with you and your sister; Merrill asked if I was worried about the same thing happening again." She smiled, remembering the shocked expression her little brother had worn when told the real reason she had been confined to bed after the duel with the Arishok. "It took me years to accept the loss and finally move on. But a part of me will always wonder what that child would have been like. I sometimes catch myself imagining another daughter or a son when I watch you, Rai'eena, and Malcolm together. It's the sort of thing that never truly leaves you once it has happened, no matter how much healing you receive."

Leda was quiet for a moment. "So the reason you are telling me this now is because you want me to take care with my own intimate relationship?"

"My soul almost died because of the miscarriage. The last thing I could ever want for you is to suffer the same loss, Leda." Phaedra opened her eyes and rolled her head so she could meet her daughter's gaze. "I was only a few years older than you when it happened, and I was in the midst of my first love as well. I could never disapprove of you and Talian, not when you are so happy together. All I ask is that you take care when you spend time with him."

"You don't have to worry, Mother. I do not think I'm ready to be a mother yet. So I'm going to use the spell whenever he brings me home, if we..." A blush rose to color her cheeks again. "You know."

The older mage laughed and sat up, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. "You know, it's all right to say the word 'sex', Leda. Neither your father nor I will pass out if we hear you use it."

"I'm more concerned about Father than you, Mother," she returned. "He still thinks of Rai'eena and I as his little girls. If he knew Talian and I were lovers, I'm certain he would lose his mind. I would prefer my fiance in one piece."

"Your father is a little uncomfortable with the idea of his daughters going off to get married, but he knows that it is going to happen someday. I think he was expecting Rai'eena to leave home first, though."

"He overestimates her," Leda snorted. "She can say what she wants, but she's much more apprehensive about leaving the forest than I am. She just keeps her worries to herself."

Phaedra laughed. Rai'eena definitely put up a brave front, then. The scarlet-haired twin had been itching to leave the Brecillian forest as ever since she turned fifteen. Lately, her frustrations had given rise to heated arguments with her long-suffering parents. None of the children had ever set foot beyond the forest's outermost trees, and it had been years since Phaedra and Fenris' last venture. Their only contact with the outside world was through the various clans of wandering Dalish, who brought news, goods, and companionship to the family. Leda was interested in the land beyond the forest, but her excitement only extended to the people she could heal and the Dalish of Talian's clan. Malcolm would likely spend his life beneath the trees, although considering that he was beginning to develop a mutual interest in a Dalish girl from a different clan, it was possible that he might travel with the full-blooded elves as well. Rai'eena was the only one who wanted to leave the forest and never return. She had made that abundantly clear many times over in the past three years.

The white-haired twin reached over to take her mother's hand, squeezing it softly. "I know she says she can't wait to leave, but I think she's just being contrary. She's as nervous about leaving as Malcolm and me. But you know Rai'eena. She always has to be the rebel in the family."

"She is making your father's hair turn grey," Phaedra deadpanned, sending her eldest daughter into a fit of laughter.

"At least he doesn't have to worry about people noticing. Who could tell?" she giggled.

The older mage chuckled a bit herself, then returned her gaze to the window. A light rain was beginning to fall. "So when do you anticipate this wedding?"

"Not for some time. Talian needs to craft a new aravel, one large enough for the two of us and any little ones that might come along. He also wants to collect enough pelts to keep us both warm. He says that we might not be joined until the next time the clan comes to this forest. So I have plenty of time to figure out how to tell Father that I'm getting married and leaving."

_That _would be a fun conversation. Fenris was not going to be entirely happy that his favorite daughter was going to be leaving them, in spite of knowing that the clan returned to the Brecillian every two years. "You're also going to need to put together some things to bring to the clan, such as potions or salves. Since you're not a full-blood, they're going to need a good reason to accept you."

"I know. Several of them have no idea that I'm a mage, let alone a healer." Leda sighed. "Talian and I need to speak with Keeper Enthrain about it. If he rejects me, Talian says we can try and start our own clan. He doesn't want to stay with them if it means he can't be with me."

So he was as determined to be with her as she was with him. Phaedra had always known that the blue-eyed Dalish was completely devoted to her eldest daughter, but a tiny part of her relaxed upon hearing that bit of news. Considering what she went through with Fenris, it was difficult for her to fully trust that her daughters' suitors would remain with them throughout the courtship. "If the two of you need a place to stay, you know you can live here until you create this clan. We're not going to throw you out just because you have gotten married."

"I know, and I appreciate it. But that depends entirely on the Keeper." Leda drew her legs up and crossed them, resting her hands on her thighs. Her gaze grew distant, watching the rain fall upon the grass outside. "I can't ever be his First, since I'm not a full-blood. I doubt any Dalish would ever allow me to be a Keeper. They only tolerate my magic since I am such a skilled healer. But I think I might be allowed to join the clan as a sort of unofficial apprentice. Keeper Enthrain has little skill for healing, after all. He primarily deals with the spirits and the elements. They've gotten by with salves and herbal medicines whenever healing is needed, unless they can find a healer. Talian told me that they have lost a number of hunters in the past because of infected wounds that did not respond to their treatments."

"I am certain they will welcome you to the clan. You are the strongest healer I have ever seen, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother or your teacher. I'm saying it as someone who is an extremely talented healer in her own right, and who knew someone who could heal any ailment he came across." Phaedra scooted closer to her daughter and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. Leda leaned against her mother with a little smile. "They would be fools to refuse a mage of your skill just because your mother is a human."

"That's what Talian said." She laughed softly. "I suppose I'm just nervous."

"Every bride is before her wedding, and every new wife is after the ceremony. You'll be surprised how quickly those nerves will quiet." The older mage hugged her daughter, then slid off the table. "Now, we have the entire day to plan how we're going to tell your father that you are getting married. We should put together a plan of attack."

Leda's teeth flashed in a wide grin. "We also need a strategy for Rai'eena. She's not going to be pleased that I am leaving before she is."

The fox leaped to its feet and pranced about his master's feet as she lowered herself from the table, and she reached down to scratch its ears fondly. "I think Kitsa wants to be included in the discussion, Mother."

"If he has any ideas, he is welcome to contribute them." Phaedra laughed as an idea came to her. "Your sister can't go charging off in some mad scheme to force Nalamir to marry her and take her away if she doesn't have her sword. Kitsa could help by hiding it somewhere in the forest."

The white fox let out a happy yip as the two women collapsed in laughter among the scattered feverfew.


	7. History Repeats

**Summary:** Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

**Disclaimer:** In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

**Queen's Quornor:** So now it's Malcolm's turn, and I think I'm going to take a slightly different path with him than I did with his older sisters. After all, if Leda is the serene child and Rai'eena the wild one, then where does that leave Malcolm? Somewhere smack in the middle, of course. I think it's time he gets in a bit of trouble with his parents, since he's only been the sweet little boy until now. But unlike most of the chapters in this fic, this one might have a follow-up. We'll see. Either way, this one marks a whole new phase in the life of our happily married duo.

**History Repeats**

Something was wrong.

Fenris frowned at the young couple sitting under the trees with their legs in the family's bathing pool. The pair looked inocuous enough, merely holding hands and quietly talking, but something about them set the elf's father sensing tingling. Malcolm was leaning a little too close to Aleihra, and her legs were angled in such as way as to suggest they were crossed at the ankles beneath the waterline. Both of her hands were wrapped around one of his and her face was downcast, hidden behind her rich mahogany hair. The couple radiated tension and unease, even from this distance.

Despite knowing that something was amiss, Fenris had to admire the picture they made. His son had grown into a tall, tanned young man who typically exuded a quiet confidence, physically an tattoo-less version of his father with a little more muscle on his frame. Malcolm had let his snowy hair grow long, and kept half of it gathered into a low ponytail atop a cascade of strands left free, interspersed with the occasional tiny braid. He had inherited the good looks of both his elven and human parents, resulting in an exotic combination that had kept the young maidens of the Dalish clans flocking around him for years. Malcolm had never minded the abundance of females competing for his attention, but his bright green eyes had been fixed on Aleihra for some time now. While he was sweet and kind towards all of his admirers, she was the one who received the full extent of his admiration.

Aleihra was as striking as her intended was handsome, which had played a small part in initially attracting him. Her waist-length hair was a deep shade of brown that shone scarlet where the light hit it, and her deep forest eyes glittered with the mischief expressed by her usual crooked smile. In contrast to Malcolm's height, she was a petite female with attitude to spare, much akin to Rai'eena in her personality. But unlike Malcolm's sister, Aleihra had a far more even temper and the patience to work through her problems rather than fly into a fury.

Today, however, the petite female was unusually quiet. In all the time he had known her, Fenris had never known her to be shy. She was always bright and talkative, unafraid of expressing her feelings. Malcolm, too, seemed very subdued. Moreso than usual, anyway.

"Are you certain you can't cast some spell so we can hear what they're saying?" he asked again, keeping his gaze on the young couple.

A wet cloth slapped against the side of his head, tumbled onto his shoulder, and began dripping down his arm. "I already told you: I refused to eavesdrop on our children and their partners. It didn't happen for the twins, and it won't happen for Malcolm. Just give it up, Fenris."

He removed the dishcloth from his shoulder and turned to face his wife, secretly amused that she had thrown it at him in the first place. Phaedra's hands were encased in white suds, but she stood with them planted firmly on her hips, frowning at him. "Aren't you bothered by the fact that they're being so secretive? Aleihra has never acted shy towards us before."

"They'll tell us when they feel we deserve to know, whatever's going on." Phaedra left the basin and dishes to stand before her husband, reaching for the rag. "Malcolm has never been one to keep secrets from us. If anything, we know more about his personal life than we do our daughters'. I mean, neither of us had any idea before Rai'eena ran off, did we?"

Fenris had to admit that she was correct. Malcolm, much like Leda, had kept few things from his parents over the years. He was quiet, but honest.

"You don't think they're planning to run away too, do you?" he found himself asking.

The mage shook her head. "I doubt it. Malcolm has always loved living in the forest, and he has said that he wants to spend his life here. He doesn't want to travel with the Dalish like Leda, and he's not adventurous enough to leave, especially without telling us. He's not like Rai'eena." A heavy sigh escaped her, fanning the wisps of snowy hair that had escaped their tie. "We should be grateful for that. I don't think I could handle another child vanishing without warning."

Fenris nodded in agreement, feeling the familiar ache in his chest. Shortly after Leda had married Talian and joined his clan, Rai'eena had disappeared. The family and a few of the Dalish hunters had searched for her to no avail. They had known how frustrated the scarlet-haired twin was with living beneath the trees, but none of them had thought she would run away without saying a word to any of them. Phaedra was of the belief that Leda's marriage and her subsequent plans to leave had been the final straw; Rai'eena had felt trapped because she had not been accepted into the clan with her sister, and she had long viewed the wild elves as her only possibility for escape. With their refusal, she had fled the cage she envisioned her life to be.

As fugitives, Fenris and Phaedra had been unable to continue the search for their youngest daughter when the trail led beyond the forest towards Denerim. Leda, Talian, and the rest of the clan had promised to look for her during their travels, but the most adamant oath had come from Rai'eena's intended. Nalamir had been unwilling to leave the clan due to his position as an ironbark shaper, and after she was refused a place among them he had backed off a little from their relationship. Before the elves left, he had confessed to Phaedra that he had decided to leave the clan and start a family with her, but he had not had a chance to tell her before she vanished.

"At least we know somebody will keep searching for her. Nalamir loves her enough to leave his clan behind to be with her. When he does find her, I'm certain he will send us word somehow." Phaedra tugged at the rag, but Fenris pulled back with a little smile, refusing to let her have it.

"I realize that. I trust Nalamir's devotion to our daughter. But I'm more concerned by Malcolm and Aleihra." The elf pulled his wife in and spun her around, wrapping her in his arms and pressing his lips to her hair. "What if he _is _planning to leave?"

"Then we'll have the house all to ourselves again." Phaedra relaxed against him with a pleased sigh. "Our children have to make their own way, love. We can't force them to stay, if they decide they want to leave. After all, we're the only ones who must remain hidden. Nobody outside the Dalish and Anders realize we have children, and so they cannot be used to find us. They are free where we are not."

"That is not what worries me. I'm more concerned by the idea that they may never return, since we kept them here for so long. Malcolm is the only one I thought would never leave the forest, and it's starting to look like he might depart as well."

"I doubt it. Aleihra is not all that fond of her clan-mates, remember? If anything, she would be eager to leave them and start her own life." The mage shifted a little, fitting herself more closely against her husband's body. "She is also quite possessive of our son, since all the girls in her clan are always fawning over him. Ever since he chose her, she has been scaring them all off."

"So half of her clan would be happy to see her depart. Actually, I am certain the other half would not mind it either; Malcolm attacts all of the girls' attention every time they return to the forest, and few of the boys are pleased with the effect he has on them." Fenris gently kissed Phaedra's head, then chinned himself atop her. His jade eyes continued their scrutiny of the young couple. "Still, she is a skilled hunter. Her contributions to the clan would be missed."

Outside, Aleihra turned and threw her arms around Malcolm, hiding her face against his chest. The half-elf held her close and said something, although the distance was too great for his parents to catch it. After a few seconds, they stood up and began walking in the direction of the house, their hands clasped tight together.

"Our patience has paid off, it seems." Phaedra took the opportunity to duck out of Fenris' embrace and snatch the dishrag back, sashaying back to the dishes. "Go sit down. You're less intimidating that way, love."

"I'm happy to know that you think I unnerve our son and his intended," the elf retorted in a dry tone. He smirked as he went to his usual chair near the fireplace; later, he would have to show his beloved mage just how intimidating he could be. She always melted when he turned aggressive in bed.

The front door squeaked open and a minute later, the couple appeared in the kitchen doorway. Malcolm silently led Aleihra to a chair and pulled it out for her, then claimed the seat beside her once she had settled. Phaedra wiped her hands on a dry rag and joined Fenris at the table, facing the younger pair.

"Mother, Father, we have something we need to tell you," Malcolm began. "It's not going to be easy for you to hear, but please, listen to us."

"We never meant for this to happen. The last thing I wanted was to do anything that would hurt you," Aleihra whispered, squeezing her hands together. She refused to lift her head to face them, hiding part of her face behind her hair.

The older couple exchanged looks, and Fenris felt dread pool in the pit of his stomach. "What has happened?"

Aleihra opened her mouth, then snapped it shut, biting her lip and looking at the table. Malcolm scooted his chair closer, wrapping his arm around her thin shoulders. He took a deep breath and lifted his head, facing his parents with an unwavering gaze. "Aleihra's pregnant. With my child."

"We didn't mean for this to happen," the Dalish hastened to add. "I took every precaution I could think of, and it seemed like a safe time when my clan returned."

There is no completely safe time, and no true precaution, Fenris thought, feeling unease roiling in his gut. He decided to keep the comment to himself, seeing how scared Aleihra looked. She didn't need any more guilt.

Phaedra folded her arms on the table and leaned forward, her bright green eyes serious. "Does anybody in your clan know yet?"

The huntress shook her head, sending her mahogany hair swishing about her shoulders. "I've only told Malcolm. He's the one who wanted to tell you. I...don't know how I'm going to tell my family, let alone my clan."

"Are you worried that they will disown you?" Fenris inquired.

Aleihra nodded. "Keeper Rialmi's daughter, Lehalta, became involved with a human woodsman when I was five. She became pregnant by him, and the Keeper threw her out of the clan. She's never had a particularly friendly view of humans or half-breeds, you know." She leaned against Malcolm and he squeezed her shoulder in wordless comfort. "Everyone was shocked when she allowed us to interact with you, and I know she isn't particularly thrilled that I'm seeing Malcolm. If she were to find out that I'm carrying a child with human blood..."

Phaedra cocked her head to the side. "I thought you wanted to leave your clan, Aleihra. Why should it matter what they think about your pregnancy?"

"I wanted to leave with their blessing, not be thrown out like refuse. If I am exiled, then I no longer exist as a Dalish. I want my children to have access to their heritage as carriers of the clan's blood, and if the Keeper denies me, then she is denying them as well."

That made sense. Fenris remembered Merrill's final departure from her clan, how dejected and hurt she was when the elves she had known all her life turned their backs and no longer acknowledged her existence. A blood mage such as her had deserved such a punishment, in light of Marethari's death. But Aleihra's pregnancy had only resulted from an act of love, not some selfish pursuit of power or knowledge. This was not something to be punished.

"You must tell them. They are your family, and if you were to suddenly vanish without explanation, they would search for you." Fenris leaned forward and fixed his gaze on the younger elf, capturing her forest-green eyes with his own. "But if the Keeper decides you are no longer worthy of the clan, it does not mean that you are on your own. You are welcome to remain with here, with us, if such comes to pass."

Malcolm's eyes widened. "Really, Father? You would allow us to stay here in the house?"

Phaedra was already nodding. "Why you would think otherwise? You are our son, and we happen to like Aleihra. We're not going to throw you out on your asses and say that you are no child of ours, or some such nonsense."

The Dalish looked at the two of them, then bowed her head with a smile as tears began to gather in her eyes. "Thank you. I was so afraid that..."

Malcolm put his arms around her and hugged her close. "I told you had nothing to fear, love. My parents aren't like the Keeper; they wouldn't abandon us."

"There is one thing that puzzles me," Phaedra spoke up. "Knowing that your father and I weren't going to turn you away, why were you surprised that we would open the house to you?" Fenris nodded at her query, leaning back in his chair.

Malcolm flushed a faint pink and flashed his parents a timid smile. "I thought that you would want us to build our own home, separate from this one. I know that you two have been looking forward to having the house to yourself, and I didn't think you would want another baby in here."

Fenris snorted a quick laugh. "Son, do you know how long it took for the Dalish and me to construct this house?" Malcolm shook his head. "We first arrived in the forest a month after we realized we were expecting children. Your mother gave birth to your sisters not three days after the final nail was driven. We hadn't even finished constructing the furniture when her water broke."

"I gave birth in one of the clan's aravels, not this house," Phaedra added. "The twins and I spent a week in Keeper Dialmiara's aravel while your father and the others put everything together. Enthrain took over most of her duties in the clan until the house was complete, because the Keeper was preoccupied with helping me care for your sisters." She laughed softly. "Dialmiara used to joke about how unprecedented it was for two humans to set foot in a Dalish aravel. But I think she took a shine to Anders before he left. She spent more time chatting with him than helping to care for me and the twins."

"Even if your clan agreed to help, there is little chance we would have a second dwelling finished built by the time your child arrived," the older elf explained, taking back control of the conversation. "It would be best if you remained in this house, and if necessary we will make additions to it. But first," he added, looking into his son's eyes, " the two of you must tell the clan that you are pregnant. Once your family and Keeper Rialmi have reached a decision, then we can make plans."

Malcolm nodded and rose to his feet, helping Aleihra to hers. "I think we should do that right now. Your clan will be here a few months longer, but there is no sense in dragging this out, love."

The Dalish bit her lip. "I know. The clan has come to see me as the rebel, and they are rarely surprised when I do something unexpected. But this will cause a stir, and I don't want my parents to suffer."

Phaedra got up and came around the table, taking the younger female's hands in hers with a reassuring squeeze. "Whatever they suffer will only consist of disappointment at the circumstances. They could not possibly be upset that you have found somebody to love, nor that such love has resulted in a new life. Their disappointment will arise from knowing that you will now leave that much sooner and it will be a long time before they will see you again. No parent could ever truly be upset with a child who has found happiness."

"Do you truly believe that?" Aleihra asked, her voice uncharacteristically timid.

"I know it to be true. All parents only want their child to find somebody they love and who loves them in return. Even if they do not show it, they will be happy for you in their hearts." The former Champion reached out and hugged the Dalish, a quick squeeze to welcome her into the family. "I'm sure they will want to discuss your plans with us. Feel free to bring them whenever you feel is best."

"We will definitely do that." Malcolm gave his mother a warm smile, then placed his hand at the small of Aleihra's back and guided her towards the door. "See you later, Mother, Father."

Fenris nodded and Phaedra waved, holding their smiles until the young couple was out of the house and vanishing into the forest. Once alone, the older pair collapsed back into their chairs and let out simultaneous, heart-felt sighs.

"I never would have thought Malcolm would have this happen," Phaedra groaned, staring up at the ceiling. "I was so careful to teach him about contraceptive herbs when he was old enough. I thought he was paying attention!"

"Perhaps the herbs simply didn't work? Or did Aleihra forget to take them?" Fenris wondered, running his hand through his hair. "I doubt she neglected them on purpose, considering how frightened she was to tell us."

"She's not selfish enough to pull something like that." The mage leaned forward on her elbows, resting her head in her hands. "Some parents we are, huh? One child married and traveling, one soon to be a father, and one who could be Maker-knows-where doing Maker-knows-what. Did we do something wrong, Fenris? Did we forget to tell our children something when they were little?"

The elf mirrored his wife, leaning forward and taking one of her hands in his. "These things happen, Phaedra. You and I know that better than anyone else. Sometimes you can take every precaution, and things still manage to go in a direction you never anticipated."

"I realize that. But I can't help thinking that maybe there was some clue, something we should have noticed to prevent all this." She worried at her lip, not meeting his eyes. "Not in Leda's case, since she's clearly found her path in life and is happy. But for Malcolm? I doubt he wanted to start a family this young, regardless of how much he loves Aleihra. Then there's Rai'eena. Clearly we missed several cues in her case, or she'd still be with us."

"Rai'eena was always planning to leave us. Short of tying her to a tree, I doubt there was any way we could have prevented her departure. As for Malcolm, I can hazard a guess as to how this happened." He stroked his thumb across the back of her hand gently, eliciting a small shiver from his wife. "They were looking forward to seeing each other, and when Aleihra's clan returned, they were so excited to be together again that prevention slipped their minds. It's not so dissimilar from what happened to us when we were younger."

"Rationally I know that, but my heart keeps thinking maybe it's my fault she's pregnant. Malcolm has always been so responsible; I can scarcely wrap my head around the idea that he was careless, especially in this matter." The white-haired mage sighed and squeezed his hand, offering him a wan smile. "Still, I have to admit that it will be nice to have a baby in the house again. Remember how much you enjoyed holding them, love?"

"If memory serves, you held them just as often as I did," Fenris teased. "You would tell me I needed to let them be, and then I would turn around and there would be a baby in your arms, with you nuzzling their heads."

"That was one nice thing about having twins. There was one for both of us to hold." Phaedra's smile widened. "I doubt it will happen, but can you imagine Malcolm having twins as well?"

"The mind shudders to think it. But the chances seem fairly low. Were there any twins in your family prior to Leda and Rai'eena?" the elf asked. He had never recovered his entire memory, but he could not recall ever seeing a pair of twins before becoming a father. Wondering whether there had been any in his family tree just stirred feelings of the idea being incorrect, so it was unlikely he had any older twins related to him.

Phaedra shook her head with a swish of her hair. "Not that I know of. The Amells were known for magic, not multiple births. As for the Hawke side, I have no idea. All I know of Father's family history is that magic was not uncommon in the line, and my paternal grandmother had my eyes. If there were any other twins born with the surname Hawke, they must have come along after the templars took my father to Kinloch Hold." She sighed and sat back in her chair, regarding her husband with serious green eyes. "If it turns out that Aleihra is carrying twins, how much help should we give them? Those will be their children, but I remember how difficult it was to deal with two infants. I wouldn't wish that ordeal on any new mother."

"I suppose they will be grateful for any help we offer, so long as the children understand that we are merely their grandparents. I doubt Aleihra would be entirely happy if her sons or daughters mistook us for their mother and father."

"Whereas Malcolm would probably find the situation amusing," his wife added, a grin spreading her lips wide. "He will be the parent to spoil them, you know."

Fenris laughed and nodded. "If he takes after his father, then that it beyond doubt."

"You've never been able to deny those children anything. Do you remember when you brought home those baby rabbits for the children to raise?" she asked, her voice filled with a conspirator's mischief as she leaned forward.

That had been a fiasco and a half, Fenris recalled. Rai'eena had been begging for a pet for weeks, after Phaedra's mabari, Atlas, had finally died. Getting a mabari pup had been impossible, but Fenris had tripped over a rabbit burrow while he was checking his snares one day and realized that there were five tiny bunnies inside. Their mother had already gotten caught in one of his traps, so a combined sense of guilt and fatherly love had prompted him to collect the babies in a sack and bring them home for his children to raise. The girls had adored the rabbits, but they constantly forgot to lock the door on the hutch Fenris made for them. As a result, there had been many occasions when the entire family had been reduced to crawling around the house on all fours, searching beneath furniture for the fuzzy creatures. Two of the bunnies had been snatched by assorted animals before the family could find them outside, one had wandered away, another had gotten caught in the walls and died, and Leda's pet fox, Kitsa, had accidentally killed the last one during a bit of playful roughhousing.

"I never would have thought that such a small animal could cause a smell that horrible," his wife continued. "Remember how it took three days for us to figure out where that one rabbit died?"

"That was not as bad as the time Malcolm caught us in bed. He thought I was hurting you, if you recall."

"I thought it was sweet how he jumped on the bed and started trying to push you over the side. I mean, it was annoying at the time, but the fact that he wanted to protect his mother was nice." She stood up and went back to the sink, plunging her hands back into the water to retrieve a plate. Fenris came to stand beside her, reaching for the drying rag and one of the clean bowls.

"He might not have bothered us if _somebody _had kept her voice down," he said archly, hiding his smirk.

"Somebody might have been able to keep her voice down if _somebody else _had stopped teasing her a little earlier than he did," she retorted. She scrubbed at the plate for a minute, then sighed and handed Fenris the dish. As he wiped the water away, she turned and leaned against the sink, crossing her arms with a sigh. "Do you really think any of us is ready for this, love? For them to have a baby?"

He put the plate down and moved in front of her, noting the worried creases around her mouth and between her brows. Phaedra seemed much older than she had a few minutes ago, worn by the memories of her own difficulties in raising three children and keeping them all hidden from the world at large. He took her hands in his and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "I think nobody is ever truly ready for their first child, let alone their first grandchild. But I also think that our son and his lover will have an easier time adjusting than you and I did, because we will be there to help them. As for us, they will set the boundaries of how much parenting we are allowed to do. It's not going to be as bad as you fear."

"I know that. I think..." She frowned and took a deep breath. "I think what's truly bothering me is that this reminds me of my mother. I never got the chance to tell her I was pregnant the first time, since I didn't realize it myself. Did you know she was aware of the attraction between the two of us?"

That surprised Fenris. Except for their first night together, he had never expressed his love for the human mage in any manner discernable to the people around them. With the exception of their companions, of course. "How did she figure it out?"

Phaedra grinned. "She apparently noticed that the two of us were looking at each other in a certain manner. We got into a discussion over whether she should start searching for someone to marry, and Mother told me that she wanted me to have the space I needed to spend time with you, should I choose to. Keep in mind, this was weeks before that night."

"I suppose I was even less subtle than I realized, if she noticed," he sighed. "I received lectures from all of our friends, if you will recall. Varric took me aside and asked me if I was serious about you, Aveline thought I should be 'earnest and forthright' in my pursuit of your affections, and Isabela tried to give me advice on how I should treat you in bed. She claimed she knew a method that would have you plastered to the sheets for the next three days, begging me for more."

"I don't think you needed that advice; you do extremely well on your own. But I must say, my favorite was Merrill and her observation of your puppy eyes," Phaedra laughed.

The elf hid his smile. "There were not, and never have been, any puppy eyes," he asserted.

"Oh, but there were. I spotted you wearing them once, while we were at the Hanged Man with those guards we saved from the bandits. I was playing Wicked Grace with Isabela and those handsome twin guardsmen, and I happened to glance over at you between hands." She leaned forward and pecked his lips, smiling as she drew away. "You were adorable with those eyes."

"Do you still think me adorable now?" he asked, pitching his voice low and wrapping his arms around her.

She rested her head against his chest and hugged him loosely. "Not exactly. I have always thought you the most handsome man in Thedas. You are merely adorable when you use your puppy eyes on me." She squeezed him lightly, then looked up at him, a playful grin playing about her lips. "I also think that our children learned their puppy eyes from their father, since I never used such a thing."

"I would beg to differ. You used them on me whenever we were interrupted, or when I had to leave you after waking you up in the mornings."

"Your eyes would get all mournful and shiny when I tried to make you tend the children late at night," she returned.

"You were wearing the same expression." He would not share with her the first occasion he had seen her with such eyes. Phaedra had never worn puppy eyes until he told her he could not handle a relationship with her, and the longing in her glistening green orbs had nearly broken him. Those eyes had haunted him for weeks afterwards, and since they had confirmed their love it had become her strongest weapon against him. He simply could not handle seeing those eyes, not when he had first beheld them in pain.

The white-haired mage laughed and ducked out of his embrace, pacing to the window and gazing at the forest where their son and his lover had vanished. Her expression turned somber, slightly mournful. "I wish she could see us. I know Mother would be so happy to see us together, to know that she got those grandchildren she wanted."

"Then don't we owe it to her memory to be good grandparents, to watch after our son and his family?" Fenris asked, going to her side. She glanced up at him and nodded, reaching down to lace their fingers tightly together.

"You're right, as usual. Of course we will." Phaedra sighed, seeing movement between the trees. "I suppose Aleihra's parents decided to discuss this with us sooner than we expected."

"I wonder what they are thinking," the warrior murmured. "The clan always had high hopes for her, so it must come as a shock that she is pregnant by a half-breed."

"We're about to find out." His wife spun away from the window and went to the cupboard, pulling out a platter of cookies she had made the previous day. "This will be a joy."

"Indeed," Fenris replied, watching the quartet's approach.


	8. Sidestory: Rai'eena

**Summary:** Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

**Disclaimer:** In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

**Queen's Quornor**: Since it's Rai'eena's turn, I figured I'd try something a little different for this chapter. Because she ran away between the last two chapters, it doesn't make too much sense to go straight into a fluffy anecdote regarding her childhood. So, why not see how she's been doing since vanishing from her family's lives?

Sidestory: Rai'eena

_"Venhidis!"_

She spat the curse without thought, the word hissing into the wind as she ducked her head to avoid the sudden downpour of chilly rain. She was instantly soaked to the bone, her cloak and hood doing little to protect her from the sky's wrath. The warrior gripped the dark grey fabric and folded her arms, concentrating on the worn path beneath her feet. If memory served, there was supposed to be an inn further down the road. She still had coin left from her last job; she could afford a room for the night, and perhaps some dinner as well.

Rai'eena shivered in the icy wind. The clouds had been threatening to spill all day, a gloomy grey presence brooding overhead. It just _figured _that the storm would begin when she was less than a mile from shelter.

The Maker seemed to have it out for her. Ever since she left home, everything had gone wrong. As a mercenary she made decent coin, but because she had little reputation as of yet, she didn't command the same prices as the more famous individuals and companies. Her lack of fame also precluded her from joining any of the groups she had applied to, and she had learned very quickly that dropping her mother's name often resulted in pure hostility from her peers. So she was left scanning the bottoms of the message boards, chasing bounties and hunting monsters whenever the opportunity allowed. Usually, she could only claim the lowliest jobs.

Aside from the lack of good work, Rai'eena also had to contend with the fact that she was a lone woman, and nobody seemed willing to watch her back. With her tiny purse, she was often stuck in the roughest crowds. Most of the men were aggressive in their advances, and few of the older, more experienced women were willing to stick their necks out for her. She had been forced to learn how to dissuade unwanted suitors fast; her first encounter had resulted in one man bleeding on a tavern floor in Denerim while she beat a hasty retreat from a howling, brawling crowd.

Alone and broke. Somehow, she had always envisioned mercenary work would be more glamorous than this.

Rai'eena sniffed and wiped at her nose, burrowing deeper into her sodden cloak. She blamed her parents. All those years of stories about their adventures had built her hopes up, given her an unrealistic idea of what this life was like. If they had taken the time to tell her about the seedier side of being a mercenary, maybe she would never have left in the first place. If she hadn't known anything about the world beyond the forest, then she might have been content to stay there for the rest of her life, just like Leda and Malcolm. This was all her mother and father's fault. Yes, definitely their fault.

The wind shifted, blowing the icy spray directly into her face. "_Venhidis!_" the young woman hissed again, turning her head to the side. This had to be the most miserable weather she had experienced over the past two years. Why couldn't she have her mother's luck? Phaedra Hawke had always seemed to get the best jobs, make connections with all the right people, and earn the respect of her peers without effort. All that, _and _she had kept her identity as an apostate secret for nearly a decade in Kirkwall! Why couldn't she, Rai'eena, the daughter of Phaedra, have inherited that kind of luck? All her life, it was as though her sister had been the lucky one, and she always got the short end of the stick. Maybe if she hadn't been born a twin, she would have inherited her share of their mother's fantastic luck.

Instead, here she was, freezing her arse off while her sister was enjoying a perfect marriage with the man that should have been hers.

She laughed bitterly and wiped at her eyes, ignoring the hot droplets mingling with the cold rain.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The inn was as rough a place as any she had seen, but anything was better than the road tonight. Rai'eena finished wringing out her cloak at the door and pulled back her hood, shaking out her long scarlet hair. There were only a few patrons in the taproom, a nice change from the crowded taverns she was more familiar with. The bartender looked up as she approached the counter and flung his stained rag over his shoulder.

"Lookin' for a room?" he grunted.

"And a good, stiff drink," she affirmed. "How much?"

He named a price and Rai'eena grimaced. She would only have two silvers left, but what choice did she have? She begrudgingly counted out the payment and looked around while his enormous paw swiped the coins into a battered metal box, sliding a dull grey key in her direction. Aside from herself, there were only four other people here. A middle-aged couple huddled together around one table, talking quietly and leaning in together over half-empty pints. Their weapons, a longsword and a large warhammer, hung low on their belts, the tips resting gently against the floor. A squat little toad of a dwarf held court at the end of the bar, surrounded by empty tankards and small puddles of beer. His bushy brown beard was slick with foam, and his dark eyes squinted suspiciously at her from beneath his thick brows. Rai'eena bit her lip and took the pint offered by the bartender, heading for the crackling fireplace and the empty table before it.

She settled herself into the splintering chair nearest the fire, undoing the pin that kept her cloak fastened about her neck and dropping it across the back of the seat. The warrior maiden reached up and brushed her fingers through her hair, coaxing a few more stubborn droplets of rain from the crimson locks as she took a drink of her beer.

"Weather's turned for the worse, I see."

Rai'eena jumped slightly, her free hand reflexively going to the sword at her belt. Her bright green eyes wandered over the inn's occupants and settled on the slender figure occupying the table nearest the corner, wedged into the corner and straddling the chair with his arms crossed atop the back. The man's hood was pulled low over his face, hiding all but the narrow point of a chin and curved lips within shadow. The maiden cocked her head slightly; the accented voice was low and gravely, but it sounded familiar. Perhaps a mercenary she had met sometime before?

"It's nasty out there," she affirmed. "Not fair for man or beast tonight."

"Indeed." The mysterious man unhooked his ankles from behind the chair legs, allowing Rai'eena to see his feet, bare but for the loop of fabric looping around the soles. She frowned slightly; only Dalish went about barefoot, and she couldn't recall ever running into any during her travels. Perhaps he was simply making idle conversation? "Nor for elves, dwarves... Not even half-bloods."

She stiffened, resisting the urge to reach up and pull her hair over the delicate points of her ears. She had long since learned that half-elves were often the targets of vicious slander, due to the sheer rarity of her kind. "If you wish to pass comment on my parents, save your breath. I've heard it all before."

"That was not my intent." The Dalish inclined his head towards the chair opposite him. "Won't you join me? I'll buy you a drink and some dinner."

She wanted to shoot him down, but a painful rumble in her stomach reminded her that she had not eaten anything save traveler's biscuits in days, and precious few at that. "If you're expecting anything in return for your generosity, don't get your hopes up," she warned, taking her cloak and tankard and swiftly crossing to his table.

"I wouldn't presume," he explained. "I only want some company, and nobody here wishes to spend time with a Dalish. You seem as lonesome as I, so I ask only for your conversation, nothing more."

Rai'eena stood beside the empty chair for a moment, sizing him up, then lowered herself into the seat. "It has been awhile since I've spent time with somebody else, let alone a Dalish. I haven't seen any of your people since I left home."

"You spent time with the clans?" he asked, cocking his head to the side a bit. The light from the fire reached a bit further into the hood, but revealed little of his face. She only caught the barest edge of his delicate tattoos, the tiniest curling point.

"I grew up in a place where the clans often made camp. My only friends as a child were Dalish." Rai'eena watched as her new companion waved to the bartender, signaling for a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread. "I even stayed with the clans a few times, when my parents would allow me to spend the night."

"Didn't you have any siblings to serve as playmates?"

"A twin sister and a little brother. But I preferred the clans," she admitted. "I didn't want to stay in the forest forever, so I figured I could hitch a ride with them one day and get out of there."

He studied her, then leaned forward as the bartender brought her meal to the table. "But it did not work out that way, did it? You were unable to join one of the clans."

The mercenary nodded and lowered her head, focusing on her bowl. "My sister married into one, and I thought I could join alongside her. But they turned me down because they said I - "

"Didn't bring any worthwhile skills to the clan," he cut in suddenly.

Rai'eena dropped her spoon into the bowl, staring at the Dalish with rounded eyes. "How did you know that?"

He snorted. " It's they only way they would ever allow a stranger to join the group. If you cannot benefit all of the elves, then there is very little chance they would allow you into their midst. I've seen it happen before."

She looked at him, unsure, then picked up the spoon again. "My sister is a healer, and that clan's keeper did not have much skill with treating wounds and illness. So they let her in. But my skills revolve around swordplay. I'm not even a good hunter; the only way I can catch an animal is with a snare." Rai'eena brought the spoon to her mouth and closed her lips around it, closing her eyes as the thick, meaty broth and softened vegetables slid down her throat. "This is delicious," she murmured, reaching for the bread.

"So what happened after you were rejected?" her companion coaxed.

Rai'eena sighed and stirred the bread in the bowl. "I ran away. Just...couldn't take it anymore, I suppose."

"Why did you think that was the best solution? Surely there was somebody who would miss you?"

She shook her head. "I doubt it. My parents maybe, but I hardly cared at the time. My sister was getting the life I had always dreamed of, and I was stuck in the woods. The idea of staying there for the rest of my life just..." Her voice trailed off and she lifted the broth-soaked bread, biting into it so she didn't have to finish the sentence.

"Wasn't there anyone in the clan who would miss you?" he asked, tracing his fingers up and down the side of his tankard. "Friends, perhaps? A lover?"

"None of my Dalish friends stood up for me when I asked to join, so why would it matter if they miss me or not?" she explained bitterly. "There was a male I was seeing, but he never said a word to promote me. It seems that our relationship was just a _fling _for him, that I was only worth a quick roll in the grass and nothing more." She rubbed at her eyes, hating the tears gathering at the corners. It shouldn't matter to her that Nalamir had rejected her. She had never loved him. Talian was the only male she had ever loved, and he was married to Leda. The mantra looped in her head as she fought back the urge to cry. "I had thought him different from the other elves, but he was just as interested in Dalish purity as all the others. I didn't mean a damned thing to him."

"Could it be that he had other obligations which prevented him from speaking in your favor?" The Dalish ignored her tears, merely leaning forward so his entire face was hidden inside the hood. He folded his hands and rested them against his mouth as he awaited her reply.

Rai'eena shook her head furiously, sending her crimson hair whipping around her face and shoulders. "He was training to be an ironbark shaper, and he led me to believe that I was more important. I was a fool to have believed him in the first place, but I couldn't help it. I had thought he cared for me. Obviously his apprenticeship was more important than I was."

"Did you love him?" came his voice, softer than before as it whispered from the depths of the hood.

"Never."

He raised his head slightly, allowing her to see his mouth. "Are you certain about that?"

The mercenary sighed, chewing her bread. "All right, I _did_ care about him, a lot. He meant a great deal to me. But when he chose his clan over me, after the time we had spent together..." She rubbed at her eyes again and looked at her companion, her expression pleading. "It may sound cliche to describe it as a knife to my heart, but that is how it felt. Like he had taken a dagger and stabbed me through the chest."

The Dalish nodded slightly. the hood barely shifting. "I know exactly how you felt. I had a woman I loved, with all my heart. But she left me without saying a word. When she did, it tore me apart. It was the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life," he told her, lifting his tankard for a healthy swallow.

"Do you hate her for leaving?" Rai'eena asked, stirring her stew in the bowl.

"I never hated her," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse. He lowered the tankard and bowed his head, staring into the clay mouth. "I was hurt, more than I would have ever imagined, but I understood why she left. Her expectations were not being met, and she could not wait any longer. My mistake was in failing to tell her my plans; if she had known, then perhaps she would still be with me."

"What were your plans?" she asked, scooping another spoonful of broth into her mouth.

He lifted his thin shoulders in a shrug. "I wanted to leave the clan with her, create a life together with other Dalish who were not satisfied in their current positions. I could have supported us with my craft. I had it all planned, but I wanted to surprise her. I suppose I underestimated how unhappy she was. As a result, I lost her."

The warrior chewed another bite of bread, mulling over what he had told her. She had pulled a runner just like the woman in his story, but she was a romantic at heart. Unlike Nalamir, he actually cared about his lover. He had their life together completely planned, which was far more than she could have ever hoped with her former flame. "You should try to find her," she advised. "It sounds like she was a fool to have left you. If you would just talk to her, I'm sure she would change her mind."

He inclined his head in the slightest of nods. "From talking to you, I cannot help but believe such might be the case."

"Then go after her! Life is short; it's not worth pining over somebody you loved and lost!" She flashed him her most encouraging smile and raised her spoon to her mouth, closing her lips around the last bit of carrots and celery.

"I'm glad you agree..._Rai'eena._"

Startled, her throat shut around the vegetables and she coughed violently, hacking the offending food back into the bowl. Once she could safely breathe again, the warrior woman stared at the Dalish with owlish eyes. "How did you know my name?" she gasped.

He leaned forward and tugged his hood back slowly. She watched with baited breath as the thick wool slid away, revealing his tattooed flesh by increments. The dark swirls meandered up his cheekbones, joining into nearly-black pools that encircled his deep green eyes. As he jerked the fabric free of his forehead, his black hair fell forward to frame his thin face, a face she had never thought to see again.

Rai'eena swallowed hard, trying to will her heart back into her chest. She licked at suddenly dry lips, and attempted his name. "Nalamir?"

One slow nod, his eyes regarding her with guarded coolness. "It has been some time."

"What are you doing here?" She folded her arms, surpressing the urge to hug herself. "Are you here because of my parents?"

"They did not send me. Nor did your sister."

The mercenary bit her lip. "Then why are you here?"

"Why do you think?" he retorted, staring into her eyes. Rai'eena found herself unable to look away, and suddenly memories spilled from the depths of her mind. Memories of the cool forest air, the sunlight streaming through the leaves. Of a warm hand clasping around her fingers, the gentle tug as he led her between the trees, the rustle of leaves as he laid her down. Of the unexpected strength in his sinewy arms as he wrapped them around her, the heat of his skin against hers. The tenderness in his eyes above her, the gentle press of his lips. The soft, hoarse Elvish whispered into her ear as he entwined himself with her, his face hidden by the warm light of the sun. She had to close her eyes and breathe deeply before she could reply.

"Why did you follow me?"

Nalamir shook his head. "I didn't follow you, Rai'eena. I've been searching for you ever since you ran away."

"Why did you do that?"

"I already told you."

She scowled at him and crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. "You're lying. When I tried to join the clan, you didn't stand up for me. You didn't say _anything_. You just sat there and let Keeper Enthrain reject me, while welcoming my sister with open arms. Maker's breath, you didn't even try to stop me when I ran from the ceremony! How am I supposed to trust you, when you didn't give me a single damn reason before?"

The green eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, offering her a frown of his own. "If you meant nothing to me, why would I be here? Why would I leave my clan for a girl who ran away like a spoiled child?"

"My parents probably sent you," she grumbled, slumping.

"Your parents have nothing to do with this. My clan didn't ask me to come after you. Nobody put me up to this."

"So you left it all behind just for me?" she sneered.

Nalamir pursed his lips. "I abandoned my clan for you, Rai'eena. I can't go back."

The warrior stared at him, then curled her lip. "You liar. Your clan and your apprenticeship meant everything to you. You always kept our relationship a secret, even while Leda and Talian were open with their affections, no matter who was watching!"

"Ah, the truth comes out!" he proclaimed, his husky voice dripping with sarcasm. "You left because of the wedding, not because you were refused entry! It was all because your sister married the male of your dreams."

"Don't you _dare_ claim to know my dreams!" Her voice rose as her hands slammed down on the table, making the bowl bounce. Nalamir's tankard remained in place, courtesy of the grip he had taken on the handle before her outburst. "I gave him up when you and I started seeing each other! It was your refusal to treat me as anything other than some distraction that made me leave! _Venhidis_, you always treated me like a child! You still are!"

"If you want to be treated like an adult, then stop acting like a child," he growled, emerald eyes flashing.

"I am _not acting like a_ _child!_"

Someone cleared their throat behind her, making the mercenary jump and twist in her seat. The barkeep stood with his arms crossed atop his enormous pot of a belly, scowling down at her. "If you can't keep the noise down, I'll throw you back outside, coin or no," he threatened.

Suddenly conscious of the inn's other occupants, Rai'eena blushed. "I'm sorry."

Nalamir rose to his feet. "Let's take this upstairs. I have a room already."

"So do I," she grumbled.

The Dalish spread his hands, tilting his head to the side with a mocking smile. "Then would you be more comfortable if we took this to your room?"

Rai'eena frowned at him, then brusquely waved at the stairway leading to the rooms. "My room. Let's go."

Nalamir followed closely after her, and Rai'eena was very aware of his nearness. Angry though she was, the warrior woman found herself remembering vividly the afternoons they had spent together in the depths of the forest, and how much she had enjoyed his company. It was not a distraction she was willing to indulge, and it only made her anger rise that much higher.

She found her room and fit the key to the lock, jerking it in the keyhole and shoving the door open. Nalamir held a hand out, stopping the door from banging into her as it rebounded from the wall, then glided past her into the room. Rai'eena shot him a baleful glare as he settled into the room's sole chair, leaving the bed for her. She stalked over to the mattress and dropped onto it, ignoring the alarming creak of the wooden frame.

"I will ask again: what are you doing here?"

The Dalish crossed his legs, resting his folded hands atop his knee. "I already told you: I left the clan to find you."

"To force me back to the Brecillian?" she snarled, baring her teeth.

Nalamir's eyes gleamed in the light from the candle on the bedside table, glowing like emerald fires against the near-blackness of his tattoos. "I came for my own reasons, Rai'eena."

"What reason could you possibly have to chase after me?"

"I told you earlier. I want to build a life with you, and I was making plans towards that end. You ran away before I could tell you what I had in mind."

The mercenary shook her head, sending her scarlet locks flying. "Stop lying to me! That is not why you're here; you never loved me!"

"Stop saying that!" Nalamir's shout startled her, and she looked at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Rai'eena had never heard him raise his voice before, nor seen him look so fierce. He glared at her, his own green eyes narrowed into menacing slits. The warrior woman, who had confronted and slain men and beasts twice his size since leaving home, felt an apprehensive shudder crawl along her flesh. "I thought you already knew how I felt about you. I told you that I loved you many times before you left, and you replied in kind. Why did you change your mind?"

"Because you betrayed me, Nalamir!"

"How did I betray you? By not saying anything in your favor when the Keeper asked you what benefits you brought to the clan? You know as well I do that you were more of a liability to the clan as a whole. You were a poor hunter. You had no interest in foraging. You knew no crafts. You regularly fought with half of the clan's females, and had no interest in learning to care for the halla. The Dalish need providers and craftsmen, people who will do their utmost to keep the peace and support the group, not young hotheads with no skill other than bladework."

"I could have acted as a guard when the clan moved, or procured goods you couldn't get yourself," she seethed, crossing her arms and slumping.

"Every one of the adult Dalish are capable of defending themselves and each other. Your sister was far better suited to dealing with outsiders than you; she was always smoothing things over when your temper got the better of you." Nalamir's gaze bored into her own, forcing her to look at the floor to hide her shame. "You brought little advantage to the clan, and any benefits that could be gained by your skill with a blade were not worth the price of simply keeping you around. I will say it plainly: I said nothing because there was nothing that could brighten your appeal in the Keeper's eyes."

Rai'eena glared at him, grinding her teeth. "Then your words about starting a clan with me are empty. If I brought nothing of worth to your people, then I would be a hindrance in the creation of a new group. There was no reason for you to remain attached to me, let alone follow me."

"Not true. The clan had no place for you, but _I _do." He leaned forward, resting his weight upon the forearms crossed atop his knee. Once again, Rai'eena found herself unable to look away from his eyes. "To create a clan, there needs to be several components. There must be a Keeper to guide, hunters to provide, a craftsman to supply, and halla for the ride. But there must also be someone of reasonable skill to protect the group while the numbers build, since a fledgling clan is vulnerable to all attackers. I already have a potential Keeper and three experienced hunters lined up to join, but none of us is skilled with a blade. We need someone like you, Rai'eena. Someone who can handle herself in a fight and cares enough to shield us in an ambush."

"Wait. You left the clan, but you still have four elves willing to do the same, in spite of your departure?" she asked skeptically, one scarlet brow raised high.

Nalamir nodded. "Keeper Enthrain's First, Andayla. She has already learned all that she may under his tutelage, but he has little desire to give the clan over to her. He is still a relatively young elf, so it is unlikely that she would inherit the role of Keeper any time soon. As for the others, they are likewise disenchanted with their roles in the clan and wish to hold a position of higher importance to the group as a whole. Once we have our halla, they will be ready to break off from the others with me." He sat back in the chair, still holding her gaze captive. "That just leaves you. We need your skills to keep us safe."

She frowned, but it was not as deep as before. Rai'eena had always wanted to feel needed, important. Growing up as the daughter of the renegade Champion Hawke, twin to a prodigy healer, she had been keenly aware that she was not as special as her mother and sister. She had clung to her father because he possessed no magic, no otherworldly power. Fenris had taught her to wield her sword, but she did not have his lyrium abilities. Even Malcolm had inherited a small bit of magic from their parents, although his skill was less that of a mage and more of a hunter who could stir up small breezes and rustle leaves to distract his prey. She was the only member of the family who had no eldritch talents, and all her life she had felt overshadowed by the feeling that she was somehow less than her parents and siblings. Part of the reason she had left the forest was to make a name for herself as a mercenary, to know how her mother must have felt during the years when she was a rising star in the Kirkwall's underworld. She had wanted to prove herself, not only to the world at large, but to her own satisfaction.

It had been nearly a year, and she still had little weight attached to her name.

The mercenary considered Nalamir's offer. The Dalish were not swordsmen, that was true. They primarily relied on their archery to defend themselves, or their long hunting knives if forced into a corner. But they had long since adopted a dazzling number of tactics designed to enhance the strength of that approach to combat and mitigate the weaknesses. They were far from defenseless. That aside, not all the elves were archers. Rai'eena could think of several individuals she had met over the years who placed their skill in swordplay, eschewing the bow almost entirely.

"Why me?" she felt herself asking. "There are many warriors among the Dalish who favor the sword. Why would you choose a half-blood like me when you could attract any number of swordsmen from the clans? Maker's breath, my father isn't even Dalish! He's an elf of the cities, not the forests. Why would you want someone who doesn't have even one drop of Dalish blood in her?"

Nalamir's black-rimmed eyes pierced her soul. "Because you are you. Rai'eena, do I truly need to say it plain? Have you not figured it out already?"

She scratched her head, sending several thick locks of scarlet hair tumbling across her right eye. A toss of her head slipped the offending strands behind her ear. "I want to hear you say it," she told him in a flat voice.

"Very well." Nalamir rose from his chair and came to sit beside her on the bed. Rai'eena forced herself to remain in place, not scoot away from him. She managed to meet his jade eyes when they sought hers. "I love you, Rai'eena. I always have. I left my clan for you, and it is my intention to begin a new life with you at my side." He grabbed her hand, taking advantage of her shock so she was unable to pull away. "I want a family with you, not a fling. That has been my wish since we were children, since the first time you came to look at ironbark blades."

There it was, then. The thing that had bothered her since she left, that niggling sense that Nalamir had been as invested in their relationship as she was. The mercenary bit her lip and looked down, fighting back tears as the loneliness and shame she had ignored for so long rose from the depths of her heart. "How could you love me?" she whispered. "I'm nothing. My sister is the better catch, and so are all those maidens in the clan. All I do is cause fights and trouble for everyone around me. I mean, I can't even get decent work as a sword-for-hire. I'm not worthy of your love."

"That's not your decision to make," Nalamir gently scolded, his voice soft. "I am the one who decides who to share my life with, and that choice has always been you. You are a difficult woman to love, Rai'eena. But love you I do, and I have since the first time I saw you. No other maiden could ever hold my attention because they are all pale shadows in comparison to you, to the fire that you have in your spirit."

The words pierced the seal she had placed on her emotions, and she tilted her head forward so her hair spilled across her eyes, hiding the tears. A final attempt at maintaining her strong, invincible persona. "But I... I'm..."

"Don't. Whatever you're about to say, don't." The Dalish pulled her arm, and she fell against his chest with a surprised sob. He wrapped her in his embrace before she could push him away. She was much stronger than he was physically, but a part of Rai'eena was not surprised to find that she lacked the will to separate them. "Your race doesn't matter one bit to me. Elf, human, half-blood, dwarf - it wouldn't not change how I feel about you. I love you, and that's all I care about. Even if don't want to accept my feelings now, I'm not giving up. I'll follow you to the farthest corners of Thedas, if that's what it takes to make you change your mind."

Rai'eena buried her face into his chest, feeling the hammer of his pulse against her cheek. Unbidden, her arms circled his thin waist and squeezed tightly. "You're certain that I'm what you want?" she choked out.

"Beyond any doubt," he murmured against her hair. "And I did try, Rai'eena. I tried so hard to forget you, whenever we left the Brecillian. I struggled to understand how I could love a half-breed and I tried to court Dalish maidens. But it never worked. All it did was make my heart ache, and your face kept swimming before my eyes whenever I spent time with another woman. Even if I wanted a pure-blood, I could never have one because I am completely in love with you."

She hugged him again, hard enough to make him grunt in discomfort. "That's for trying to love somebody else," she told him between sobs.

Nalamir chuckled and tightened his own embrace. "What about you?" he asked. "I already have an idea, but... Was our relationship some fling to you?"

The mercenary shook her head and lifted her face out of his shirt, aware that she must look positively dreadful right now. She had never been a very ladylike crier, and her face and eyes were almost certainly flushed as red as her hair while her nose dripped. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, one of the reasons why I ran was because I thought you didn't love me, that you had used me. If I didn't give one damn about you, then I might not have been so desperate to leave."

"If I had to speak it plain, then you do as well," he coaxed, holding her captive with his gaze.

"Then I'll prove it." She raised her head a bit higher, pressing her lips against his. He tensed, surprised by the sudden kiss, but then his mouth opened to hers, and one of his hands threaded into her hair to keep her steady. After a few breathless moments, she drew back and looked into his passion-glazed eyes.

"I love you, Nalamir," she said simply.

He flashed her a crooked smile. "I already knew that."

Her eyes widened and she stared at him, her jaw hanging loose. "Then why in the Void did you make me say it?" she finally managed, too shocked to get angry.

"Not to humiliate you, I promise. What I want to hear is your answer to my proposal," he clarified, cutting off her furious protest. "Will you come with me, Rai'eena?"

"I..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head, smiling around her sigh. "I still can't wrap my head around this, you know. It's hard to imagine that a Dalish would be all right with a half-blood, let alone marry one."

"Well, half-bloods have to come from somewhere. The same goes for quarter-bloods." Nalamir kissed her again, a quick peck of the lips. "What say you?"

Rai'eena offered him a sultry grin, tilting her head so her hair fell across one of her eyes. "I say...if you want me, you have me."

"Oh, I want you, all right," he told her in a hoarse voice, his eyes darkening. "Shall I demonstrate?"

She considered him for a moment, then raised her hands and buried them in his hair, bringing Nalamir closer. Just before she sealed their lips, she issued a challenge. "Only if you think you can handle it."

A slow, husky chuckle rumbled from the depths of his chest. "I think I've proven that I can make you shriek."

"Ah, but it's been two years," she teased, tilting backwards. His hands guided her down to the bed and she settled against the sheets, linking her fingers behind his neck. "Are you certain that you still know what I enjoy?"

Nalamir's eyes danced in the candlelight as he leaned down. "Let us find out."


	9. Quiet Interlude

**Summary:** Even in domestic bliss, there remain battles to fight. Phaedra/Fenris family fluff, post-Kirkwall.

**Disclaimer:** In no way, shape, or form do any of the recognizably canon characters or places belong to Yours Truly.

**Queen's Quornor:** Just some down time for each of the characters. I figured they needed some peace and quiet, given that they've gone through so many ups and downs lately. So here they get to spend quality time with the ones they love, without worrying about what's going to happen next. We'll get back to the action and drama later.

Quiet Interlude

There was something to be said for the quiet, Fenris reflected. After years of running, fighting, and generally trying not to be found, having the opportunity to sit down with the most important people in his life and enjoy the silence was a welcome treasure. He leaned against Phaedra's shoulder, carefully maneuvering Leda so she would not wake with the movement. Glancing to the side revealed his wife smiling back at him, tiny Rai'eena secure against her chest.

The twins, for once, had gone to sleep without their usual fuss. They had been bothered by colic and fevers all day, running their parents ragged with worry. But Phaedra had finally soothed them with a combination of magic and herbal treatments, and now the girls were dreaming in their parents' arms. Fenris and Phaedra were left cradling their infant daughters on their bed, free to enjoy each other's company in peace.

Phaedra rested her head against his, a contended sigh drifting from her lips. Fenris had to agree: this was the life.

Leda stretched and yawned in her sleep, her little pink tongue curling before she smacked her lips and settled back in her father's arms. The elf watched her, a happy smile quirking the corners of his mouth. He would never have dreamed that merely watching a baby like this would make him so happy. But then again, he would never have imagined that he and Phaedra would share such a life together. Back in Kirkwall, he had thought they would remain in her estate for the remainder of their lives, enjoying the perks of her title and mediating the ongoing quarrel between Orsino and Meredith, or whoever would succeed the two leaders. He had believed that he could finally settle down, luxuriate in a life safe from Imperial hunters, and walk as a free man with the woman he loved.

Yet a part of him had always been expecting the hammer to fall and shatter that peace, considering how erratic the Knight-Commander's behavior had become and the escalating unrest within the Gallows. He had always been poised for action, awaited the moment when he would resume his life on the road.

At least he had not been alone this time, he thought. Phaedra was with him, and now their daughters had finally come. Sheltering within the Brecillian forest, they had recovered the peace snatched from them in the City of Chains. His former master was dead, Varania had fled for parts unknown, their companions had left to pursue their own futures, and they were wanted the world over for crimes against the Chantry. But for the moment, they were safe.

He tilted his head against his wife's and let out a sigh of his own, feeling another smile curve his lips deeper. Yes, this was the happiness he had been seeking. This was the peace he had dreamed of.

And nobody, not Tevinter hunters or vengeful templars, would ever take it from him.

/1/2/1/2/1/2/1/2/1/2/1/2/1/2/1/2

Phaedra lay on her side, silently watching the play of moonlight across her husband's body. A decade and more had not diminished her fascination with his markings; when he was asleep, she often found herself watching them, admiring the liquid sheen of illumination over the lyrium beneath his skin.

Fenris hated them, she knew. But even knowing how sensitive they were could not lessen their beauty in her eyes. Her husband was a living work of art, a breathing statue of flesh with silver vines curling and dipping across his body. Danarius had been responsible for so much misery in his life, but at least the man had made his bodyguard into a thing of absolute beauty. Not that Fenris was ugly, of course. Even without the markings, Phaedra would have thought him the most handsome man she had ever seen. But the markings accentuated his natural good looks, and made him extraordinary.

She traced the arcs of his tattoos, following them up his chest and neck to his lips, then let her gaze drift to his ghost-white hair. His locks matched hers for color, but she strongly suspected that it was not his original shade. There was no exact method to check since, like all elves, he had no body hair. But his black eyebrows pointed to his potential origin as a brunette. Phaedra had been expecting their daughters to inherit darker hair; it had been a total shock when one had been a redhead, and the other a silverette like them. It had been less of a surprise when Malcolm had arrived with a colorless shock of hair, but still puzzling.

Perhaps the trauma of the lyrium tattooing had caused the change in hair color. Maybe it had been a result of long-term exposure to the substance. She had no way to be certain. All Phaedra knew was that Fenris had been the first person she had met with hair to match hers, and she had found him all the more appealing for it.

She lifted one hand, lightly stirring the air above the whorls on his chest. In response, Fenris murmured and shivered, but remained asleep. He was incredibly sensitive, thanks to the markings. The lyrium intensified any sensation, and while it often came across as pain, in particular circumstances Phaedra had been able to turn his sensitivity to her advantage. In the midst of pleasure, she could use his markings to increase his desire and enjoyment, making their encounters all the more exciting for him. He would hurt afterwards, but he had learned to appreciate the intensity, if not crave it.

It was odd that he could receive so much sensation whenever she touched him, given his revelation about her not causing him pain whenever she brushed or pressed his markings normally. It was only when they were intimate that she had any sort of effect on the lyrium, a phenomenon that neither of them could begin to explain. Whatever was at work, Fenris could not enjoy the touch of any other person. Isabela had give it her best shot in Kirkwall, prior to their relationship solidifying, but there had been no pleasure in her seductive caresses. Only Phaedra could touch him and not cause him pain.

Even holding their children, he had told her, left a stinging burn along his arms wherever their skin met his. He had learned to tolerate the pain, but it was not comfortable. Phaedra could only hope that time would deaden the sensation; their daughters adored him, and loved to be held. Fenris enjoyed picking up and carrying the twins, regardless of the excruciating result. Holding their newly-born son did not hurt him so much, but that was more because there was always a blanket preventing contact between them. Whenever Fenris held him skin-to-skin, Phaedra always caught him furrowing his brows in discomfort.

The mage sighed and continued to trace his features with her eyes, following the curve of his jaw to the tip of his ear. Fenris had made good progress in learning to ignore the vestiges of his past in their daily lives, but a part of him still struggled to appreciate how a human such as herself could ever love an elf like him. Phaedra had long since stopped trying to convince him - it was a concept he had to accept for himself. But secretly she was happy to have fallen in love with an elf rather than a fellow human. She had always found elves graceful and beautiful, and sympathized with them as outcasts in a world that catered to magic-less humans. She had never been able to see herself with a human man, to the disappointment of many hopeful suitors. Fenris could understand her loneliness in ways no normal human ever could, and so she had been drawn to him. They both had spent years on the run from forces determined to capture them, lived in constant fear of being dragged into a fate that loomed as a specter from a nightmare. They had both fought to remain free, and in the end their liberty had been guaranteed only with the deaths of their tormentors.

At least their sacrifices had toughened them. Had Phaedra not lived as an apostate and Fenris as a runaway, they would not have survived in the isolation of the Brecillian.

She directed her wandering gaze to the arm resting atop his toned stomach, followed the tanned limb up to his shoulder. Her husband was easily the strongest person she had ever known, in so many ways. He was strong enough to run from the only life he had ever known not once, but twice, to face the scorn and fear of the crowds, to come back to her in spite of the pain and the repeated gain and loss of his memory. His was a deceptive sort of power. To look at him, one might never guess just how much strength was in his lanky body, his skinny limbs. But up close, she could see the wiry muscles cording his arms and legs, the chiseled symmetry of his chest and belly.

So much strength, and he had dedicated it to the defense of himself, their family, and the life they had built together.

Taking into account his brooding demeanor and the air of feral anticipation that surrounded him when first they met, Phaedra was occasionally amazed at how tender he could be, even after five years of marriage. Having isolated herself from romantic companionship all her adolescence, she had limited understanding of how men were supposed to act when they were alone with a woman. But after seeing how Anders and Varric had treated her, the way Carver had fumbled to gain Merrill's affections and his short-lived romance with Peaches back in Lothering, the mage was certain that few men could convey the mixture of gentle consideration and leashed passion that Fenris wore like a cloak whenever he was with her.

Ethereally handsome, strong beyond reckoning, intelligent, and loving.

She sighed and reached out to take his hand, smiling at the unconscious squeeze she received when their fingers twined.

Whatever she had done to deserve this man, it was totally worth it.

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The sun shone warm and bright, filtering through the leaves to pierce the shadows with golden shafts. A few butterflies danced around the beams, their brilliant blue wings stirring minute breezes in the still forest air. If Leda listened carefully, she could hear the voices of the ancient trees, groaning as they beseeched the nourishing sunlight to grace their gnarled trunks.

The young mage spread her arms wide and arched towards the light, rising onto her tiptoes as she silently rejoiced in the warmth on her chilled skin. A lazy grin curved her lips; spring was at its height, and winter was a distant memory. She loved this time of year. Life was on the cusp, transitioning between new and mature, and the forest was filled with patches of juvenile greenery and colorful flowers beneath every opening in the canopy. Here and there, the gentle residents of the woodlands enjoyed the abundance of fresh plants and light, taking pleasure in Nature's renewal. At the corner of her vision, her pet fox Kitsa rolled in the cool grass, his jaws open in what passed for a canine grin.

Leda raised and lowered her arms, allowing the sudden movement to spin her in a tight circle. She lifted one pale limb, offering her hand to the dancing butterflies as a place to rest their wings. One of the fluttering insects took her invitation, drifting close and settling delicately on her palm, fanning her skin with tiny swirls of air. The mage smiled and brought her little companion close, beginning to sway with music called from the depths of memory.

As she dipped and twirled, Kitsa came to join her, weaving in and out of her legs in a joyful series of bounces. His snow-white tail swirled and waved, signaling his joy. In her hand the butterfly clung tight, content to ride her palm while Leda danced.

She leaned back, pointing her right leg straight to the sky overhead, her spine holding her parallel to the earth. Kitsa yipped and bounded to the other side of the glen, bringing Leda's attention to the tall figure standing just beyond the trees. She smiled and beckoned with her free hand, inviting her observer to join in the dance.

She watched as he set his bow and quiver securely between the roots of a giant sycamore, swaying gently in place as she waited. Talian came to her and set his hand in hers, prompting the butterfly to join its fellows. She offered him a teasing grin, then he pulled her close and they began to move.

They spun and swayed, their movements totally in sync with one another. Talian lifted her to receive the light from the sky; she shimmied down his body and ducked around him, trailing her fingertips along his back and shoulders in a teasing caress. He took hold of that hand and guided it high above her head as she rose onto her toes, twirling her in a gentle circle. She bent backwards and his forearm was there to support her, to hold her steady while his free arm caught her upraised knee. Leda wound her arms about his neck when he brought her to him and raised her face to receive his kiss.

Around them, the butterflies continued their waltz. Kitsa paced the circumference of the glen, keeping a watchful eye on the forest beyond. Talian lowered her to the soft grass warmed by the sunbeams, and Leda accepted his weight with a smile.

Spring was truly the celebration of life.

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The rasp of the whetstone echoed about the cave, assaulting Nalamir's sensitive ears with a rhythmic cacophany. He glanced up from his pile of arrowheads, wooden shafts, feathers, and leather thongs; Rai'eena had seated herself at the back of the cave, and was pointedly ignoring him while she sharpened her blade.

He allowed a tiny smile as he appraised her from the corner of his eye. Since deciding to return to the forest and begin a new clan with him, Rai'eena had alternated between allowing herself to display her love for him and retreating back into her independent-minded pride. Sometimes, this happened without any warning whatsoever. Today, for instance, she had been affectionate and flirty, but now she was back to ignoring him.

It was maddening how her emotions could turn on a coin, but Nalamir had long since learned to look past her mood swings. He loved her because she was so vivacious, particularly compared to the maidens of the Dalish. Rai'eena had a zest for life that he found enthralling. Being around her made him feel energized as he never was among his clan-mates. She kept him on his toes, and coercing the softer side of her personality out from behind the fiesty exterior reminded him of all the times he had stalked prey on a hunt. It was difficult, but so very worthwhile.

He admired her in the light from the fire that separated them. Like her sister, Rai'eena had inherited her father's stature. Although she possessed a fair amount of curvature in the chest and hip regions, she was all legs. But she preferred folding herself into tight positions, as though to hide how tall she stood. Nalamir had never seen her sit up straight; she was always bent forward, sometimes with her legs drawn close to her body. But in spite of her attempts to disguise her height, any onlookers would be drawn to her due to her exotic looks. Rai'eena had her mother's bright green eyes, and she enjoyed emphasizing them with black kohl in a tight outline. Her scarlet hair hung just below her shoulders, and she had acquired a habit of dyeing the roots black and fading the color into her locks so they gradually lightened into her natural shade. Nalamir had thought the technique odd the first time she had showed it to him, but now he loved how edgy it made her look.

While most would say that there was no way to tell an elf-blood from a regular human, the Dalish shaper would disagree. To his eyes, the warrior woman was a lovely meld of human and elven features. She had her mother's high cheekbones and her father's mouth, the slanted tilt of the former Champion's eyes combined with the size and shine found in those of the former slave. Phaedra's long, finely-shaped fingers matched to Fenris' raw physical power. All this made her a study in contrasts, a beautiful warrior who moved with grace and surety even as she strode among her fallen enemies. Nalamir loved to pick out which feature or quality came from which parent, and note how it had affected and shaped the woman he loved.

Rai'eena thought she was inferior compared to her twin, for a number of reasons. In Nalamir's eyes, she was easily the match of his clan's newest addition, if not her superior. Leda was a gentle healer, who mended wounds and soothed the ailing with a kind smile and soft hands. She was an ethereal wisp of a woman, a pale spirit given human form. Linked to the Fade at her very core, the elder twin always seemed a touch disconnected from the world around her, as though constantly listening to a universe beyond the sight of others. Talian had found her irresistible, but to Nalamir she was not worthy of his attention. Leda was far too similar to any Dalish maiden, in spite of her lovely face and healing hands. She was a friendly warmth, a welcoming flame, but he had never felt any inclination to nurture her.

The younger sister, on the other hand, was a true fire. She offered heat and drew the attention of those around her, and when out of control she was nearly unstoppable. She embodied both life and death, and could offer either at a whim. In the ironbark shaper's eyes, she was a primal force that had enticed him since the day he met her.

It was exactly what his new clan would require, once they met up with the other Dalish who had agreed to join them in the Wending Wood near Amaranthine. The hunters were in need of a driving force, beyond their desire to live apart from the clan they had known all their lives. They needed someone who could excite them into working harder to recruit and provide, someone who would run towards an attacker with sword drawn, shrieking a battle cry at the top of her lungs. Rai'eena was a combative woman when she was unhappy, but Nalamir had seen her appeased before. There was a leader hiding beneath the resentful shell, one who could inspire and galvanize those around her. Andayla, being the Keeper, would be the clan's head. But there had to be someone to back her up and protect the clan as a whole. Every Dalish clan had a shadow-leader, someone to lead at the Keeper's side and deal with outsiders. Rai'eena would need some training in that regard, given her hot temper, but she was less likely to cause a stir among shemlen than any Dalish.

There was one other factor that played into Nalamir's hands. Andayla was one of the only females in the clan who actually got along with Rai'eena and enjoyed her presence. She had been one of the people who encouraged him to find his missing sweetheart, recognizing the potential within the elf-blood. Rai'eena returned the friendly sentiment; not only had the two spent a good deal of time together when the clan stopped in the Brecillian, but she held the First in high regard compared to her peers. Nalamir had seen his beloved's slightly-pointed ears prick when he had dropped her name at the inn.

Rai'eena insisted she was only coming along because the new clan needed her sword. But the reality was that she was joining to be with him. It seemed like a conceited notion, Nalamir knew, but it was the truth. Rai'eena did love him, and she had always wanted to belong somewhere. She had long since been aware that she had no place in a large group, despite her attempts to join Nalamir's old clan. During his search, he had discovered that she only tried to join smaller merc companies, where her quicksilver personality would be less likely to interfere with existing dynamics in the group. She needed to be a part of a small group. That aside, Nalamir had recognized in her a certain weariness. Disillusionment.

Her time as a mercenary had soured her view of the human life. She was ready to embrace the ways of the Dalish.

He felt a smile quirk at his lips. It would take some time for her to fully acclimate, but he knew she would find a place in the new clan. That aside, he did not intend to merely keep her around. Someday, he wanted to marry her, start a family with her. Most Dalish would condemn him for thinning his blood by siring children on a half-human, but Nalamir could not bring himself to care. He had been dreaming of red-topped daughters and sons with human features; he could have children with elven women, but it would mean nothing. It had to be Rai'eena.

She caught his smile and tipped her head to the side, a quizzical frown creasing her brow. Nalamir's smile broadened and he shook his head. If she knew what he was imagining, she would probably turn as red as her hair, sputter some insult, and storm off for a few hours.

But she would come back.

Eventually.

The Dalish ducked his head to hide his grin, and bit his tongue.

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The water rippled beneath his fingers, streaming away in tiny trails as he dragged his hand atop the surface. Malcolm smiled and continued to play with the water until, after a few minutes, another hand lifted from the pool and grabbed his. This hand was far more slender than his own. His grin broadened and he wrapped his fingers around the small palm, gripping it tight. He brought their hands up to Aleihra's shoulder, keeping his other arm wrapped softly around her middle. She let out a gentle sigh and snuggled closer to him. Her head rolled back against his shoulder, her nose resting against his neck. A smile of her own mirrored his.

It was a warm summer day, and the couple had elected to spend it sitting in the bathing pool behind his parents' house. Aleihra had developed a certain appreciation for the water; at eight months, she was tired of aching bones and her sore, rounded body. Being submerged helped to ease the discomfort of advanced pregnancy, and these days the Dalish huntress was most often to be found relaxing in the the dammed stream. Phaedra sometimes joined her and applied magic to soothe the pains, but usually Malcolm was the one accompanying her.

That was not the only reason she spent the majority of her time in the water, allowing no thoughts to cross her mind. She needed the peace to keep herself sane. Emotional as the pregnancy had made her, these quiet stretches in the water were some of the only factors holding her together.

Aleihra had left her clan. The group had departed the forest several months ago, and the huntress had remained with her new family. It had been a mutual decision for her to leave, but she was still counted as a member of the clan. The Keeper had given her blessing to the union with Malcolm and officiated over their wedding before their departure. Aleihra's parents were divided on their opinion. Her father had congratulated them on their marriage with genuine warmth. He, at least, was looking forward to seeing his grandchild when next the clan passed through the Brecillian. On the other hand, Malcolm had watched his new wife fall apart when her mother turned her back on them, coldly informing them that she no longer had a daughter and had washed her hands of her. Even now, he sometimes caught her shedding tears for the mother she had lost.

But at least she had found support with his parents. Phaedra and Fenris had welcomed her into the family and treated her like a third daughter, in spite of their initial hesitance regarding the unplanned pregnancy and hurried wedding. Malcolm suspected they were happy for the distraction; with Rai'eena missing for nearly two years and Leda now a member of a different Dalish clan, his parents had needed something to sidetrack them from their worries.

As for the couple, they were looking forward to the arrival of their child. They both knew it was not going to be easy, and Aleihra was fearful of the birth itself, understandably. But Malcolm always managed to calm her with speculations about their child's appearance. Neither of them were expecting many elven features, given that shemlen blood seemed to dominate the overall look of a mixed-blood child. But considering that Malcolm and his sisters had somehow wound up with delicate points replacing the curved ears of a human, and large eyes reminiscent of their elven father, it was not impossible that their son or daughter might inherit some Dalish physical traits. Right now, the biggest debate centered around their child's hair color. Four of his five family members had white hair - Rai'eena being the sole exception - and Malcolm had been told that his paternal aunt had been a redhead whereas Phaedra's siblings had both been brunettes. Aleihra herself had rich red hair, somewhere between crimson and chestnut brown, which meant there was a distinct possibility for the baby to come out with flashier hair than his or her father. They had a bet running on which color it would be.

Overall, Malcolm was content with his new life. He had never wanted to leave the forest, and living with his parents hadn't bothered him as it had his sisters. He had a wife whom he loved from the bottom of his heart, and in a few months he would become a father. Having tagged along with Fenris on hunts for years, he felt prepared to fulfill the role as the provider of his little family, although Aleihra was certain to help him in that regard.

He also hoped to raise many more children with his wife. He knew that his mother had been denied her dream of a large family, since his own arrival had been so difficult. If Aleihra was willing, he wanted to give Phaedra enough grandchildren to make up the difference. He wanted a family large enough to fill the house his father had built, enough kids that none of the rooms would be empty anymore. But if Aleihra said no, then he would content himself with their one child.

All the same, he thought with a smile, he would attempt to cause a few "accidents" if her denial wasn't too strong. Besides, he knew she wanted a number of children as well, to make her own father happy.

His sisters could have all the adventure they wanted. Leda would spread her healing gifts as far as she dreamed, and Rai'eena was free to travel wherever she willed. Malcolm missed them, but he wished them well. He was happy to stay beneath the trees he known all his life, to look after their parents and raise his own family.

Happiness was not limited to great deeds, he reflected, hugging his wife and unborn child a little closer. Let his sisters bring fame back to the Hawke name, renew the nobility of the former Champion's line. All the glory he needed was right there in his arms.


End file.
